


Petals of Miracle

by maskofthehero



Category: Code Geass
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, because this fandom seriously lacks shirlulu content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maskofthehero/pseuds/maskofthehero
Summary: The Hanahaki Disease, an illness in which the victim of unrequited love proceeds to cough up flower petals. The only known treatments are for the love to be returned... or a surgery that ends both the disease and the feelings the victim has.Prince Lelouch wants to choose what do to, how to live, and who to love... but fate seems to have other plans.
Relationships: Shirley Fenette/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39





	1. Part 1

Some say it feels like floating on a lake of absolute bliss; all warm water and silky petals, leaving tingling touches as it languidly runs over skin. Others say it feels like the summit of suffering, like dried petals piercing into their skin, leaving nothing behind but woeful wounds accumulating abhorrence. And then there were those who said that it feels like nothing at all; an infinite void that was neither jovial nor dismal.

The hanahaki disease was but a clear epitome of love, love that left you in bliss, torture, or absolutely nothing.

~

Prince Lelouch is yet to develop a relishing for royal balls. He’d probably be fonder of them if they had only concentrated in the times in which they are actually taking place, instead of consuming the preponderance of his time several days prior. He’s lost count of how many times this week he’s had to go for suit-selecting, dancing classes, rehearsals, and other generally headache-inducing matters. Lelouch doesn’t think they are of much necessity; he can wear any suit to the ball, he already knows how to dance like a professional, and he has been to enough balls to memorise the regimes.

Nonetheless the violet-eyed boy has to hold in his umpteenth sigh as a servant carries on with comparing two fabrics while holding them over his pearly skin, trying to decide which is a better fit although Lelouch is pretty sure they’re the exact same fabric. He has nothing against this servant but there’s no telling what is going to happen if this session doesn’t end soon. It doesn’t help that Lelouch is your would-rather-be-sitting down guy, and that the mere action of standing drains him rather quickly.

Keeping hold of his stance—arms on sides, legs parted, and chin high—Lelouch dares to look out the window. The last time he’d done that the servant was quick to turn his head back to its original position—facing the wall opposite him—claiming the turning had deranged her measurements, though Lelouch doubted that his tie being a centimetre shorter would have been a problem. He’d obliged earlier, but now that the servant was measuring dimensions of his legs, Lelouch believed it wouldn’t be a problem to turn his head, though he did concentrate more on his posture to avoid another disturbance to the servant.

He locks his gaze on the scenery out the window. The serene sky is captivating but he fixes his eyes on the vast green land beneath, or rather, what lies beyond that green land. The things he would do to catch a snippet, just a snippet of the outside world. Alas, from any given point in the palace, all he can see is green after green after green.

Lelouch feels something in his chest give a slight twist. He should by now be used to the prospect that so much as breathing the air outside the perimeter of the palace is unthinkable. It is something he never forgets but nonetheless is constantly reminded of every time he catches himself focused on the farthest point his eyes can see while gazing outside, every time he gets a visitor from outside the palace, every time he watches the news. Why does this pang of pain still catch him by surprise?

Fortunately, the sorrow doesn’t have time to manifest before the servant declares the ending of the session, putting everything aside and helping Lelouch off the platform, then bidding farewell.

Lelouch’s limbs hurt from the stance he had to keep. He stretches his arms as he makes his way to the door, where his knight patiently awaits him.

“Quite a troublesome feat to stand for a while, isn’t it, Your Highness?” the knight says as Lelouch approaches, making a clear emphasis on the word _stand_ with the faintest grin on his lips.

“Spare me your sardonic assertion, Suzaku,” Lelouch replies, feeling his own lips threaten to break into a smile, probably hindered from his fatigue. “You try doing this more than once a day for several consecutive days and you’ll be enlightened on how strenuous it actually is.”

“Thank you for the offer, Your Highness, but standing by the door is enough for me.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Lelouch says, his lips finally curved into a smile. “I could use some fresh air right now.”

“Of course, Your Highness, You’ve only an hour left to your next dancing lesson—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I doubt you’ve had the luxury of forgetting.”

And so Lelouch and Suzaku make their way to the garden, where Lelouch hopes to rejuvenate.

Little did the prince know, that the languor he was in that day was going to be the best he would be in a long, long time.

~

Milly’s mischievous smile is going to, one day, be the end of Shirley.

She knows from several past experiences that this very smile hints at no good, especially when it is accompanied by the impish gleam in Milly’s sapphires. A minor explosion in the science lab. A girl being groped in the baths. A drama costume that has Shirley strutting down the stage half naked. There is just no way of knowing what Milly has in store, but trouble is always guaranteed.

That being said, Shirley doesn’t know what to anticipate as she fumbles with the pure white envelope in her hands. The envelope did look out of the ordinary, being impossibly white with outlines that are so shiny Shirley doesn’t doubt they’re real gold. Nonetheless she believed that the envelope would be harmless enough, or so that’s what she believed until she dared to glace at Milly, only to be greeted by that wicked grin.

Now all Shirley can do is nervously glance from the thick paper to Milly and back again. The prestige of the paper and the imprint of the flag of Britannia on it are inadequate to help Shirley guess just what could be inside.

“Well, Shirley?” Milly says in a singsong voice, languidly tilting her head, her grin widening. “Staring is a leisure pursuit, I won’t deny, but in this particular situation, it’s really of no use.” The blonde bats her lashes. “Your fate has already been sealed.”

Shirley gulps. She is unable to restrain a shudder but she does concede to Milly’s words; whatever Milly has gotten her into she indeed wouldn’t be getting her out of. Soon enough Shirley’s fingers are fumbling to open the tightly-sealed envelope and out flows another pure white paper, though its feel is slightly different from that of the envelope. Shirley casts another glance at Milly, seeing the blonde’s satisfaction grow, before turning back to the paper.

She goes for reading at a normal pace, starting from the very first line, but her eyes move by themselves and scan words haphazardly, only lingering on her own name, invitation and—

And royal ball.

Shirley shrieks, throwing the paper away as if it were a ticking bomb. Milly only laughs at this reaction.

“This _can’t_ be,” Shirley breaths heavily.

“Oh but it _can_ be,” Milly’s voice is a serene melody. She reaches for the paper and waves it in Shirley’s face. “You’re going to the royal ball.”

Too many words flood into Shirley’s mind at once, and instead of speaking she can only make a series of incomprehensible sounds that make Milly dissolve into laughter yet again.

“How—how did you even manage to get me an invitation?” Shirley manages to say. She already knew that Milly’s family had affiliations with the royal family, but being able to get an invitation to the royal ball for Shirley still seems impossible.

Milly winks. “I happen to have a very handy modus operandi. And many guests are allowed to get a _plus one_.”

Shirley gapes. “I can’t be considered a plus one.”

“A plus one in definition means a guest of my choice to be attending, not necessarily a love interest.” Milly strokes her chin. “Although I wouldn’t mind hopping on that wagon for the sake of it.”

Shirley vigorously shakes her head. “Love interest or not, I can’t go at all.”

“Why so?”

“Because I’m not royalty material.”

“I haven’t the slightest fabric of royalty material either. You and I are the same.”

“But we’re not, Milly. You’d fit right in with the upper class. I... I won’t be able to.” Shirley buries her face in her hands, not even daring to think about what a chagrin she would be if she dared to show up at the royal ball.

Milly gently moves Shirley’s hands away, locking their eyes together in an unwavering gaze. “Listen to me, Shirley,” she says softly. “I won’t force you to go to the royal ball, but I promise you that if you do, I’ll make sure it’s the best night of your life. Maybe you won’t fit in with the royals, but you don’t have to. You can have a wonderful time nonetheless. I’ll make sure of it.”

Shirley feels her uncertainty slowly subside. Milly always knows the right thing to say and right now her words cannot be denied. Shirley has gotten through many direful situations solely because Milly was by her side, and she doubted the royal ball would be any different.

“But wait,” Shirley’s eyes widen as another alarming thought rings in her mind. “I have nothing to wear. I... I can’t wear any of my own dresses...”

“I wonder...” Milly’s voice adopts the same merry melody as she scoots away to reach for the bag she’d been carrying earlier, and Shirley realises she’s completely forgotten about it. The bag is glittering, its surface somewhat reflective, with shiny ribbons sticking out and elegant cursive printed on either side. She hands the bag to Shirley, a wide grin on her face.

Shirley hesitates for a beat before taking hold of the bag and slowly opening it. The mere sight of the dress folded was enough to make her gasp. She was frozen for a moment, unable to speak or move at the splendour before her eyes. With great care, she takes out the dress and lays it on her bed.

The velvety dress feels incredibly smooth, almost liquidised, against Shirley’s fingers. The rose colour, being a few shades away from being white, has her thinking of cherry blossoms blooming in the onset of spring, or a clumsy, lovestruck person faintly blushing. Its length has Shirley doubting her shoes would be visible once she wears it. The hem and the strapless top, as well as the waistline, are lined with pearls, a touch that adds to the already-overwhelming charm. Accompanied by the dress are a pair of elbow-length gloves, the same shade of pink as the dress, their hems also lined with pearls, and a pair of milky stilettos.

Shirley finds herself at a loss for words, staring at the attire in front of her in utmost bewilderment. She is acutely aware of Milly slinging her arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer.

As unbelievable as it is that Shirley might actually have a chance to attend the royal ball, there is no denying Milly’s uncanny talent of doing the impossible.

“Mark my words, Shirley,” Milly says. “The night of the royal ball will be the best night of your life.”

~

Lelouch can’t decide whether to be grateful or dreadful that time picked up speed and the day of the royal ball arrived soon. Tonight he would be sprawled on his bed, the fatigues of the week fading away, making him have the wondrous sleep he’s been robbed of for the past days. Alas this luxury won’t be happening until tonight, meaning that Lelouch has to actually get through the day first. Quite the mission impossible.

The prince’s tribulation finds him seated in a luxurious lounge with the multitude of his brothers and sisters, who are all busy with making sure they are perfected from the roots of their hair to the soles of their shoes, leaving him the only one reclined on the couch, staring at the ceiling, without the slightest of interest in pretty much anything. 

He can’t figure out why his siblings pay him no attention but is grateful for desolation nonetheless. He surely needs the time to escalate his energy levels before the ball starts. He would have preferred silence but has already mastered the art of drowning out people’s voices.

Lelouch doesn’t know how long he played statue and the very first interaction he has with his siblings onsets when the couch creeks, and he sits up to find his sister Euphemia sitting next to him.

“You should cheer up, you know.” With her bright eyes and beautiful smile, Euphemia’s merry energy is contagious. The third princess is already alluring, with her milky skin and her enchanting periwinkle eyes, with her flamboyant pink hair, but above all with the smile that almost never flees her lips. But right now she seems to have exceeded the summit of beauty, with her hair twisted into two buns on either side of her head, with many curls left to flow all the way to her waist. In the frilly, snowy gown decorated with many ribbons Euphemia seems to be glowing, more literally than figuratively.

“You and I are of the same mind, sister,” someone says, approaching, and Lelouch looks over his shoulder to see his brother Clovis languidly rest his arms on the back of the couch.

“Don’t affront Euphemia by saying that her mind resembles the bowl of porridge you have in your head,” Lelouch says.

Clovis pays no heed to Lelouch’s remark, only eyes the boy in contempt. “The ebony suit is a remarkable fashion statement, I’ll admit,” he says, “but with that melancholy and attitude of yours you look like you’re on your way to a funeral and not a royal ball.”

Lelouch wryly smiles. “That’s what I was going for.”

“You’re quite the ramshackle, aren’t you?” Clovis sighs. “Don’t you know that things could _happen_ at royal balls?”

“I’ve much grown past the habit of reading bedtime stories and giving credence to fairy tales.”

“I do agree with Clovis though,” Euphemia intervenes, and Lelouch flashes her an alarmed look. “Royal balls are indeed magical.”

“Though you can count on Lelouch to hinder the magic,” Clovis says, examining his gloved fingers.

Lelouch runs a hand through his hair. “This is just another day in the life, same thing in and out. I doubt any amount of magic would change that.” It wasn’t something easy to deny. Being born royalty, there is no warrant that his life would deviate from its normal path.

“There’s no way of telling.” Clovis stands upright and turns away, the golden locks of his hair swaying with him. “But I’ll have you know, Lelouch, that there’s a chance that after this evening, your life will never be the same.”

~

Shirley finds a stranger reflected in the mirror in front of her.

The hairdresser Milly hired had spent a full hour on Shirley's hair, tucking it into a frilly bun atop her head, letting a single curl flow on either side of the ginger's head, with her bangs pinned back. The makeup took quite some time, too, for Milly insisted that the majority of Britannians enjoy putting an abundance of cosmetics on their face.

Milly had quite the makeover herself, with her blond hair pulled into a ponytail and her face colourful with makeup. In the royal blue dress that looks less like a dress than robes haphazardly tucked around her body, leaving some skin uncovered (another Britannian preference, she'd mentioned,) Milly looked like royalty.

"See, Shirley?" the blonde says, waving at the mirror. "We'd fit right in."

Shirley slowly scans herself from head to toe. "I... I don't know, Milly," she stammers. Pretending to be a member of the upper class in no easy feat, and Shirley might look the part, but then there was her persisting awkwardness and timid nature. Milly, on the other hand, knew just how to talk, just how to laugh, and would have no problem conversing with crown prince himself.

Milly appears to have read Shirley's mind, because she then walked away from the mirror, making Shirley follow her, as she started speaking.

"It's not that hard, you know," Milly shrugs. "Just accept compliments and melodramatically laugh at anything you hear. And try to keep a full glass in your hand, to try and take a sip when you don't know what to say."

Milly turns to look at Shirley and, after seeing the ginger's agitation prevail, struts over to Shirley and hooks their elbows together.

"And remember the most important thing; you’re my plus one," Milly says with a wink. "Anyone who deals with you has to deal with me.

~

Pianos.

Violins.

Endless chatter.

Shrilly laughter.

Clinking glasses.

Too many sounds to take in at once Lelouch can barely hear his own thoughts. It’s hard to tell if it’s bothering him; as much as the prince attends to his thoughts he is not doing much thinking at the moment. His mind is void as he saunters around the ballroom, cocktail glass in hand.

More than once or twice did a princess or noblewoman strut over to him, deluge him in sweet words, swear their hearts to him. Lelouch might as well be walking around with a sign that says “Currently in Need of a Lover”. Walking around the emptiest corners of the room, distancing himself from the dancefloor, and cutting down the chatter are apparently not enough indications that he is not interested. The only omissions to his solitary are a few of his sisters whom he danced with to kill some time and, of course, his knight, who is always following him at a respectful distance.

Lelouch has little sense of purpose walking around, and abruptly decides to stand by the window for some time. He can see the vast land beneath, illuminated in the light of the full moon and cascade of stars surrounding it. He does his best to focus on the scenery, but it’s hard with the very colourful reflection of the ballroom on the polished glass. With a soft sigh, Lelouch turns to lean on the window, and scans the ballroom. Nothing out of the ordinary; people chatting, dancing, drinking—

Lelouch’s heart leaps out of his chest.

And he can’t describe the marvel that falls upon his eyes. Maybe it caught him by surprise, being the only eye-catcher in what’s a mundane scene to Lelouch, being out of the ordinary, standing out from everyone and everything.

Her flamingo dress was rather unembellished, flowing in a somewhat strait line rather than in frills that made the wide skirts the other ladies were wearing. It was quite elegant despite its simplicity, and Lelouch sincerely believed its elegance came from the person wearing it more than anything else. Her ginger hair, Lelouch could tell, had once been tied in a bun. Though still shaped like a bun it fell down to her nape, with a few curls arbitrarily sticking out.

She still looked breathtakingly beautiful. 

Still, it was hard to take notice of her beauty when her face wore an agitated expression. Her green eyes were frantically moving around the room, like she was searching for something or someone of great importance. She looked on the verge of tears, and Lelouch desperately wanted to make his way to her, to help her, but his body seemed to have turned to stone.

He searches for his voice, and it takes his several attempts to find it. He beckons for his knight, and his voice sounds so distant, even to his own ears.

“Suzaku,” he calls.

“My prince.”

“Suzaku... Who...” Lelouch takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. “Who is this?”

Suzaku follows Lelouch’s gaze, but Lelouch doubted it would take much for him to know who he meant; she still stood out, and it was no hindrance that everyone stayed a distance away from her at all points, making a circle of emptiness surround her wherever she went.

Suzaku clears his throat. “I am not familiar with many of the guests, Your Highness, but if I am correct, this is Shirley Fenette, a mate of Milly Ashford’s, who is a close relative to Lady Marianne’s associates.”

Only when Lelouch gives an elongated exhale does he realise he’s been holding his breath. “Why is everyone distancing themselves from her?”

Suzaku is quiet for a moment. “She is a commoner, Your Highness.”

Lelouch shuts his mouth rather tightly. He feels something in his chest twist vigorously, though he can’t tell what had sparked that feeling. Maybe he was angry, but antipathy towards the lower classes was nothing unfamiliar to royals and aristocrats. He is hardly surprised by the treatment, given the many judgements he receives for getting visitors who are commoners. But it was still stupefying, how everyone stayed away from the ginger-haired girl even though, just by merrily looking at her, one could easily tell that she bore the biggest heart in the world, not to mention that at the moment she seemed to be in great need.

The longer Lelouch stares the severer the heaviness in his chest becomes, and he wants—he _tries_ —to make himself turn away but he can’t. He only stood in place, his agony escalating, before the girl traipsed away, and it was only then that he chest became lighter, even if a little bit.

He turns back to face the window, though the scenery seems to be more blurry than it had earlier.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” he hears Suzaku ask.

Lelouch presses his hand against the glass, feeling its cold and smooth surface. “No,” he says. “Everything is fine.”

Though for the rest of the night, his chest kept paining.

~

The late hours of the night find Lelouch and his siblings walking through the now empty halls of the palace. The princes and princesses seem to have not consumed all their energy, continuously chatting, sharing their favourite parts of the day, some of them even drinking. This, of course, leaves Lelouch the only one barely awake and able to drag his own feet to his room.

“I might have outmanoeuvred myself today,” Clovis says imperiously. “As impossible as it seems, even my perfection can be surpassed—only by myself, of course. They _loved_ me.”

Cornelia rolls her eyes. “Only because you drank so much you couldn’t be the dumbass you actually are.”

“They _loved_ me.”

“I think you’ve drank enough for today,” Schneizel says, reaching over and taking Clovis’s glass from him, “and many more days to come.”

Lelouch could hear Clovis whining and bickering as the glass was passed as far away from him as possible, and Cornelia was the one to end it by taking the pleasure of emptying the glass in one big gulp.

“What about you, Lelouch?” Cornelia says, looping her arm around Lelouch’s shoulders and letting him drag her along. “You’re the only one who hasn’t shared anything about their day.” Her breath smells of alcohol and her cheeks were a light shade of red.

“That’s because I have nothing worthy of sharing,” Lelouch simply states.

“Are you _suuure_?” Clovis joins, also leaning against Lelouch and the extra weight almost makes the violet-eyed boy stumble.

He only spends a moment to ponder on Clovis’s question. He lazily sorts through his memories and indeed finds that nothing remarkable has taken place today. There were the short conversations he had with some aristocrats, the dancing with his sisters—

The twists and turns in his chest when he saw her.

Lelouch barely manages to restrain a shudder and is thankful his siblings are too drunk to notice how jumpy he became. He knows himself better than this; he shouldn’t let his guard down and especially not concerning a topic like this. The prince wiggles his way away from Cornelia and Clovis and his other siblings catch them in time.

“The only thing I’m sure of right now is that I have done my part for today and need to attain the rest I so rightfully deserve,” Lelouch says, glad that he was easily able to take on his haughty tone though some part of him notices that the abrupt patronising was rather deliberate. “I’m also sure that you need to stop drinking,” he closes off as he continues his way to his chambers by himself, his steps rushed.

He only dares to let out a soothing sigh once he reached his private quarters, where a servant awaits him. Lelouch had already removed his jacket by the time he reached her and told her that he won’t need any assistance for the night. Though she seemed reluctant about it, the servant took his sable jacket and went away, bidding him a good night. He made his way to his room, undoing the buttons on his vest and cuffs, eager to get into his sleeping robes—

Lelouch freezes in his tracks.

He feels as if thorny vines have wrapped around his chest, his throat, constricting so tightly he can barely breathe. He frantically moves his hands around his chest, trying to search for the vine to cut it but he just can’t seem to find it.

He falls to his knees.

A passionate horde of coughs bubble out of his throat, making him doubt his oesophagus is still intact. He can feel the taste of blood on his tongue before he can see the droplets on the floor in his blurry vision.

The vines wrap more tightly.

Lelouch screams in pain, his hands clawing at the buttons of his shirt. He is keenly aware of the servant running towards him, screaming his name. He barely feels the hands as they ease him into a laying position. He lets out another scream, his back arching, blood rushing in his ears as he coughs and coughs and coughs.

So much blood, so much pain, so much _agony_.

At the back of his mind he registers the servant calling for someone, and soon enough more people are rushing to him, though now his vision is so blurry he can’t tell who they are. He twists and turns, feeling like his whole body has been set ablaze. His vision becomes dimmer and dimmer and dimmer.

Lelouch lets out a single, final, excruciating cough that makes him feel like his very soul exited his body...

...and a flower petal comes out. 


	2. Part 2

Lelouch opens his eyes to be greeted by infinite darkness. He twists his head but to no avail he figures out where he is. He tries to sit up and he can only do so at an excruciatingly slow pace that makes his muscles scream in pain. When he manages to sit up and looks at his body to see just what had been holding him down, and the sight makes his blood turn to ice in his veins.

Thick, thorny vines are wrapped all around his arms, his legs, his abdomen, his whole body. Beneath the vines the fabric of his shirt and trousers that are soaked through with blood are torn, exposing bruised flesh.

It was a mortifying sight and feeling, but what astounded Lelouch the most were the flower petals. They were a deep shade of red, almost the colour of his blood. They were scattered everywhere near him. He reaches for a petal and twirls it between his fingers, thinking about the trenchancy that something so beautiful can be born from the ugly vines. He moves his hand to his face to get a closer look at the lavish petal, but as his vision focuses, his notices something that makes his stomach drop.

He is not alone.

But it was only the fraction of a second that he’d seen the person sitting across him that everything melted into nothingness.

~

When Lelouch opens his eyes again he is greeted by a dim light. He gasps and coughs, feeling like shards of glass are moving around his lungs. He hears some voices and feels someone gently help him into a sitting up position which is strange because Lelouch was certain he was sitting up just a moment ago.

“Drink,” Lelouch hears as a cool glass is pressed against his lips. Feeling his throat dry as a desert, he gladly gulps the water, even though it was a torment to swallow.

Lelouch closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. The first things he sees are the worried faces of Clovis and Euphemia.

“We thought you were never going to wake up,” Clovis says, sounding like he’s been holding his breath for an enduring period of time. He sits on one of the chairs next to Lelouch, running a hand through his hair, moving long locks away from his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” Euphemia asks, putting her hands on Lelouch’s shoulder.

Lelouch shakes her hands away, feeling the touch much too intolerable on his sore body. “Like I’ve had shards of glass pushed down my throat then had my body thrown over a cliff, thanks for asking,” he says, noticing how hoarse his voice is. Euphemia notices it as well, and she hands Lelouch more water before sitting down.

Lelouch helps himself with the gulps of water and his head and vision finally clear. He is sitting in a sterile, ivory room that he can only guess is in the hospital wing. To his left Clovis is sitting on a chair, and to his right Euphemia and Schneizel are on a couch. A distance from him is another couch where Cornelia is sitting, a sleeping Nunnally in her arms. Lelouch looks around, feeling his stomach tie into knots. It must be something phenomenal that happened to him for his siblings to gather around like this.

“Well, no one can say love is not accompanied by pain, dear brother,” Clovis says, smiling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lelouch eyes Clovis suspiciously before looking around again and noticing that everyone is smiling at him. He feels a chill run down his spine.

“You… don’t remember?” Euphemia asks in a low voice.

“I do recall feeling unbearable pain. Anything else I’m supposed to remember?”

Lelouch’s siblings exchange unnerved glances, which doesn’t help his nervousness. With no words spoken, Clovis reaches for the table next to Lelouch, grabbing a small clear container. He hands the container to Lelouch and the violet-eyed boy’s suspicion doesn’t abate.

Lelouch takes the container and examines it, his eyes widening and his body freezing when he sees what’s inside.

A small, red flower petal.

Only then does the memory come back. He did feel, in the midst of the burning coughs, something cool and smooth climbing up his throat. But that was a mere second before he’d lost consciousness. Lelouch rubs his temples, trying to make sense of anything that has happened, but Clovis takes the pleasure to do so.

“You’re in love!” the third prince sings, throwing an arm around Lelouch’s shoulders. “Cupid has shot an arrow right at you and had you swept right off your feet. You’ve found the Juliet to your Romeo, your Aphrodite, someone who has managed to get the Dark Prince’s attention and affection when no one else—”

“Can you get _off_ me?” Lelouch leans away from Clovis and is glad when the latter takes his place again, even if that idiotic smile doesn’t get wiped off his lips.

Lelouch’s grip tightens on the container, his knuckles whitening. He grits his teeth as he cranes his head to stare at the ceiling. His thoughts are spinning round and round and he can already feel a headache forming. Too much has gotten into his head at once he will need an entire lifetime to analyse his situation, especially about the _falling in love_ part.

Last time the prince checked, he hadn’t gotten _swept off his feet_. He is a rather reserved person and his unforthcoming nature does tend to drive people away, which is exactly what he bargained for. He already has a hard time understanding his own feelings and attending to them, just how can he bring another person in the picture?

But perhaps the most important question of all is just who managed to get his attention and make him fall in love in the first place? Lelouch himself is intrigued, an astonishing feat it is for someone to have the Dark Prince’s minimal affection bestowed upon them. Though with his curiosity there is anger, and it’s all directed at himself. How could Lelouch let his guard down? How could he do something against his better judgment? Had he even been thinking at all?

Lelouch isn’t aware his frustration had been showing until he feels Euphemia’s hand on his. He turns to her to be greeted by her sad, somewhat pitiful smile. 

“We know it’s hard for you,” she says quietly. “And we want you to know you’re not alone in this. We’ll be by your side the whole way through.”

Lelouch inhales as deeply as he could without feeling his lungs hurt. “Thanks, Euphy,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

“That’s why we’re all here,” Clovis says. “We figured wouldn’t feel good once you woke up, so we came here to make you feel better.”

Euphemia eagerly nods, letting go of Lelouch’s hand and reaching for the basket next to her before handing it to Lelouch. “We even made this for you.”

Lelouch sets the container back on the table and takes the basket. He fiddles with the red and white ribbons sticking out in all directions, and the silky cushion on which cards and flowers and other things are placed. He feels his lips curve into a smile. “Thank you guys,”—he slowly rummages through the contents, getting excited when he spots the golden-coated aluminum-like material that he knows is used for wrapping chocolate—“I’m actually in the mood for…”—only to find mere hints of chocolate on them. “…chocolate wrappers?”

Everyone turns to Clovis.

“They were _melting_ ,” the third prince says defensively, lifting him palms. “Someone _had_ to eat them.”

Lelouch sighs as he sets the basket next to him but Clovis is quick to liven things up.

“The chocolate is of no importance right now, Lelouch. You have something much _sweeter_ coming your way.”

“More like something more _exasperating_ ,” Lelouch grumbles, shifting in the white sheets. “I don’t get it. I never chose to be in love. How can I get the disease when I don’t even know how or when or _why_ I caught feelings?”

“No one is ever really aware when their heart is captured, Lelouch,” Schneizel says.

Clovis sneers at the second son. “Because _you_ are an expert on love?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh I see,” Clovis crosses his arms, “so you suddenly claim to be the lovebird after your poor aide de camp had to undergo the surgery to remove the flower only because you were too coldblooded to love him back. That seems just.”

There was a collective sigh.

“We’ve been over this time and again, Clovis. I was _not_ the person Kanon caught feelings for.”

Clovis shakes his head in disdain. “I still can’t figure out what he saw in you.”

“That’s the _point_.”

“What happened to this whole making me feel better thing?” Lelouch waves his palms at his brothers. Clovis and Schneizel turn as if they had indeed forgotten their younger brother’s presence.

“Well I was about to get to it,” Clovis says, “but you happen to be in luck. We can easily figure out who you’re in love with.”

“We can?”

“Yes. Now you coughed up the flower petal right after the royal ball, which means that the person you caught feelings for was _at_ the ball. All we have to do is set you for a rendezvous with each girl who attended the ball until you determine who the one is.”

“But symptoms of the Hanahaki Disease can start showing as well as a week after the feelings begin to develop,” Schneizel says. “It might just be any girl he met on any occasion.”

“Then we’ll invite every girl in the kingdom,” Clovis says like it’s a piece of cake.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Lelouch feigns keenness. “Good thing I still have the other glass slipper.”

“The way I see it,” Cornelia breaks her silence, “we shouldn’t be as concerned about the lamentable chain of events that qualifies to be referred to as Lelouch’s love life as we should be concerned about his _health_.”

“That I agree with,” Clovis says. “You did go through quite the torment because of the disease. Almost everyone at the palace could hear you scream that day, and when we reached your chambers you had already lost consciousness.”

Lelouch slowly grits his teeth. He does vaguely remember many people running at him that day.

“You’ve been comatose for over two days, and you don’t look much better since you’ve woken up,” Euphemia says and Lelouch can hear the sadness in her voice.

“You do look quite pale. It’s probably low sugar levels.” Clovis reaches for the basket. “Here, why don’t you have some… oh, right.”

~

_Lelouch vi Britannia Finally Awakens From His Slumber_

The words are written big and bright and bold on the bottom of the screen, with the picture of the aforementioned prince on the corner, as the anchorwoman goes on with enlightening all of Britannia on the prince’s current situation.

“While we thank the heavens His Highness has finally regained consciousness, we are unable to dispel our worries as the disease leaves him in a rather debilitated state. However, we are being assured that His Highness is being provided all healthcare resources to ensure an ending to his enervation and the preservation of haleness. We continue wishing and praying that no harm falls upon His Highness, and that he is freed from the clutches of the Hanahaki Disease with the joyous declaration of his love, though we can easily say with His Highness being the dashing, intuitive personage he is, it won’t be long before enough love is bestowed upon him to cure him.”

Shirley doesn’t know why she felt an overwhelming rush of relief upon knowing Prince Lelouch was finally awake, or why she felt immense despair in the two ghastly days in which he was unconscious. Given that she isn’t a big fan of the Dark Prince, she shouldn’t be wasting her time being concerned with his life.

She’s been wrestling with her own thoughts for the past two days. She, just like other girls, had a thing for the eleventh prince, but it’s all in the past now. She knew for a fact that her silly little crush never would have worked out and decided to discard her feelings. Still, she couldn’t help the slivers of panic that entered her chest when she came to know of Lelouch’s painful incident, couldn’t help having her thoughts occupied by him all day.

But now Shirley can ill afford to have the prince on her mind. She made a choice back then, and she’s going to stick to it.

At least for as long as her heart can be fooled.

~

The chilly, tranquil afternoon finds Lelouch on a terrace overlooking the garden, at a small table, having tea and biscuits with Nunnally. His sister had only woken up when he’d gone back to sleep and, upon finding out Lelouch had woken, made preparations for some quality time together.

Lelouch was overwhelmed with gratitude though he expects no less from his angel of a sister. Some peace and quiet and light grub are exactly what he needs at the moment.

“You scared me, big brother,” Nunnally says, adding sugar cubes to her tea. “They told me what happened to you and I couldn’t believe it, and as the days passed I really thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“My apologies, Nunnally,” Lelouch smiles, feeling his heart ache at the thought of his sister worrying for his wellbeing. “But I’m awake now. There’s no more for you to be concerned about.”

“I truly hope there isn’t.” Nunnally takes a small sip of tea. “I still don’t understand how you suffered so badly. I didn’t know the Hanahaki Disease could be so painful.”

“It varies from person to person,” the violet-eyed boy sighs. “For some people it feels delightful, for others it feels painful. Some even say that it doesn’t feel like anything at all.” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the gentle wind carry what it can from his fatigue.

“I also don’t understand how you got the disease in the first place. The recipients are those who are victims of one-sided love, and that would mean that there’s someone out there who doesn’t love you. Quite hard to believe.”

Lelouch laughs even though it pains him. He slowly runs his finger through the caramel waves of his sister’s hair, and locks his violets with her lilacs when he says, “The heart can only be satisfied by so much, Nunnally.”

For a moment the two just sat in silence, unspoken words of solace exchanged between them. The biscuits were a little too dry for the convenience of Lelouch’s throat so he decided to help himself with the tea instead. The sweet, hot drink going down his throat was truly blissful. But the tranquility that settles within him threatens to leave when he notices that Nunnally is too quiet, and the furrow of her eyebrows doesn’t help.

“Is something the matter, Nunnally?” Lelouch asks.

“S-say, big brother…” Nunnally says in a low voice. “You’re not considering going for the surgery, are you?”

Lelouch’s lips press into a tight line. It was one of the first things that had come to his mind when he’d had the time to think. He still hasn’t set his mind on anything but it’s hard not to make a choice when he thinks of those agonising moments where he lay on the floor, screaming and coughing.

He takes note of Nunnally’s agitation and quickly shakes his head as he reaches for her hand. “I’m not really considering anything at the moment, Nunnally. But I don’t think I’ll be going for the surgery. I… I caught those feelings for a reason, and that’s the same reason I shouldn’t discard them.”

Nunnally’s face lights up. “That’s exactly what I’d expect of you, Lelouch,” she smiles, tightening her grip on his hand. “Still, are you willing to go through that pain again?”

“The light is at the end of the tunnel.” Lelouch runs his finger along the brim of his teacup. He finds himself surprised that he is actually speaking the truth. While it is tempting to get rid of the pain for good, Lelouch can’t repudiate his feelings, and he does want to know who captivated him more than anything in the world.

“You always know the right thing to say,” Nunnally says as she reaches for another biscuit. “Which reminds me, there’s something I need to tell you. I have a friend coming over tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Lelouch lifts his eyebrows. “Is it Kaguya?”

“N-no, big brother. I’m having a new friend over. Her name is Shirley Fenette.”

Lelouch takes a moment to place the name. He remembers the one commoner girl whom everyone stayed away from at the royal ball, but decides not to refer to her using her status. “Was she the one from the royal ball?”

“That’s her. I saw her walking by herself in the royal ball. She came across as a really nice person, and it was sad to see her all alone so I invited her over so we can spend some time together. She accepted and seemed very happy about it. It appears that the other royals weren’t very kind to her.”

“That was a wonderful thing of you to do, Nunnally. Your kindness is equivalent to that of the entire world.” Lelouch smiles at his sister.

“But she’s a commoner, big brother. While that doesn’t change the way I feel about her, you know of the things people say about us whenever we—”

“That’s not something you should spare attention for. If having Shirley over makes you happy then do it and don’t pay heed to anything anyone says. Don’t give up on your happiness, Nunnally.”

Nunnally smiles, “That’s what you always tell me.” She sips more tea. “Remember that time in the garden when I was trying to catch a butterfly and kept running after it until I gave up? I’d just sat under the tree and you ran at me and told me not to give up, not to lose hope. The moment you said those words the butterfly flew at me and landed right on my finger.”

Lelouch lightly chuckles. “How can I forget?”

The silence returns and now it’s more enjoyable. Lelouch relishes the feel of the sunlight on his skin, the wind through his hair. He decides to finish his tea before it gets cooler, and lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip.

The tea doesn’t go down his throat.

It instead juts right out of his mouth with a violent cough. He drops the cup on the floor and can hear it shatter. He is well aware of Nunnally shrieking and Suzaku running at him but that was when the pain took over. Lelouch doubles over, harshly coughing, feeling more air coming out than going in.

He can feel Suzaku put a hand to his chest. He reaches for Suzaku’s hand and squeezes the knight’s wrist with all his might, taking out the pain he feels. He turns to Suzaku, hoping the chocolate-haired boy can comprehend what Lelouch conveys through the desperation in his eyes, the hard grit of his teeth, and the screams muffled in his throat.

Suzaku immediately understands and rushes to get Nunnally out of the terrace. Lelouch could hear Nunnally’s protests and it didn’t help with his pain. Several guards were already headed Lelouch’s way before Suzaku had even gotten out.

Lelouch grips the fabric of the table cover fiercely, his free hand balling into a fist and slamming the table repeatedly as his coughs multiply. He feels like a thousand needles are pricking his lungs and throat at once. Tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly his lungs constrict, and he finally feels the familiar coolness and smoothness of the petals as they climb up his throat. His coughs get deeper and wetter, and with shooting pain the flower petals jut out of his mouth.

Relief floods through Lelouch almost immediately. He fills his lungs with as much air as they can take as his surroundings gradually come into focus. He can feel hands on his back and can hear beckons of his name, as well as the horrendous taste of blood in his mouth. He slowly lifts his head, the action causing a great deal of pain, to stare at the table top.

He’d knocked over the vase and the teapot. The cover of the table was soaked through with water, tea and blood.

So much blood.

And the protruding sight was the pool of blood right at the edge of the table, where the last of his coughs had been aimed. The blood was starting to drip on the floor. There were several flower petals this time, all swarmed in blood.

And they were beautiful petals. Beautiful petals grown from an ugly flower.

~

A passionate jolt of his body awakens Lelouch. He gasps, feeling life slowly seep back into his being though with it the pain returns. Dread washes over him when he realises where he is. He is back at the eerie abyss of darkness, thorny vines wrapped around him and tying him to the ground. He slowly sits up, hissing when the vines get further buried into his bloody skin as a result of his movement. He pants, getting dizzy from the pain. Part of him wishes he’d be unconscious again.

He wonders how and when he got in this place, whatever is it, and why he keeps ending up in it. He struggles to get out of the vines tied around him but renders it impossible; if he moves too much the vines might just cut him enough to kill him. There has to be something he can do.

Something.

Somehow.

 _Someone_.

Lelouch’s eyes widen. There _is_ someone with him. That he remembers. He jerks his head around in search for that person and his heart skips a beat when he spots them, sitting a distance away from him.

“Hey!” Lelouch calls out, his voice eerily bouncing around. “Help me out!” he shifts a little in place to emphasise the assistance he needs.

At first there was nothing, not a word and not a move. Lelouch was about to call out again when the person stood tall and slowly walked towards him.

Walking towards him was a mere silhouette of a human being, looking like light bent to shape a naked human body. Only the outlines were defined, leaving the rest of the body deprived of details, all smooth and white like molten marble. The long hair that flowed past the waist and the curvature of breasts were the only implications that she was a girl.

Lelouch narrows his eyes against the silhouette, the luminosity being much too intense for his eyes to take. She was the only source of light in the dark abyss but Lelouch doubted her light would be rendered any weaker if she were standing next to a star. She was now standing right in front of Lelouch. She nudged a single vine tying Lelouch’s foot and the violet-eyed boy watches with utmost amazement as the vine disintegrates. All it had taken was a single touch…

Lelouch looks up at the bright figure in front of him in absolute astonishment. “Please free me,” he begs.

A bright hand reached for his face, but it was when the hand was mere centimetres from his face that everything flew apart and away.

~

Lelouch tries to reach for the hand that was right in front of him, but opens his eyes to find himself reaching for thin air. He slowly sits up, looking around in confusion as he finds himself in his own room when he could have sworn he was somewhere else just now. He coughs a few times, feeling like matchsticks are being lit in his throat.

“Your Highness?” someone calls almost immediately after Lelouch coughed, and the prince sees his knight stride into his room and towards him.

“Suzaku… what happened to me?” Lelouch asks, hating how most things that happen to him go unremembered.

“The disease had another strike, Your Highness. Though you didn’t lose consciousness this time; you probably fell asleep while being carried to your room.”

“That’s progress indeed,” Lelouch grumbles.

“The little adds up down the line, Your Highness. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“Ah, yes, my own boneheaded wisdom backfiring at me.” Lelouch kicks off his sheets and means to get out of bed but Suzaku is quick to stop him.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, Your Highness,” Suzaku says. “You are rather fatigued at the moment. You could use more rest.”

“Believe me, I am very much cajoled into staying in bed but I need to get up and undertake any activity to clear my mind.”

“That’s wonderful,” a loud, colourful voice chimes in and Lelouch turns to see Clovis at the door, leaning against the frame. “And here I was thinking I was going to have to force you out of bed.”

~

Lelouch should’ve stayed in bed.

While the prince didn’t want to be locked up with his thoughts, now that he looks back to it, this appears to have been a much better alternative to whatever Clovis has in store for him. The blond hasn’t revealed anything regarding his plans, only that it will “effectively aid” Lelouch in “search for an end to the disease”, though Lelouch doubts that would be anywhere near the truth and it doesn’t help when he notices Clovis is leading them to his art room.

They enter the lavish, capacious room, and Lelouch immediately makes his way to the bench situated by the window. He seats himself, feeling exhausted from the long walk. Clovis shuts the door and leisurely walks near the wall where his many paintings are hung. He examines one of the paintings as if he’s never seen it before, gently running the tips of his gloved fingers on the canvas.

Lelouch inhales sharply. “I swear if you’ve made me walk all this way just so we can admire your paintings—”

“Oh no no no,” Clovis turns away from the painting. “I love admiring my art as much as the next person but today we have a different commission, and that is to figure out who is it you’re in love with.”

“And just how are we going to do that?”

Clovis turns back to the painting. The illustration was that of a waterfall, pouring into a wide lake the sparkled in the sun, an effect Clovis captured quite brilliantly. Around the spacious lake was a green land, topped up with a cascade of flowers and some small animals here and there. The painting seemed to be bursting with life.

“Do you know this place, Lelouch?” Clovis asks.

“What does this have to do with—?”

“Just answer the question.”

Lelouch holds back a sigh of irritation as he thinks. He’s been to several picturesque landscapes in several different countries, but doesn’t recall seeing the waterfall captured in the painting or anything resembling it.

“No.”

“Have you ever been there?”

“No.”

“Neither have I.”

Lelouch almost jumps from surprise. Clovis does have some masterly art skills but it doesn’t seem likely that even he would capture such a scene so perfectly if he hadn’t at least seen it in real life.

“I don’t even know what this place is,” Clovis strolls away from the painting. “Does it seem possible that I can capture it without even knowing what it is?”

“Not remotely.”

“Exactly,” Clovis smiles. “But that’s the beauty of art, Lelouch. Anything is possible.” He sits next to Lelouch. “When I meant to draw this place, my objective was to draw a place where distress wouldn’t exist, a place where any man can go and have his worries be lost to sight. A place where you’d just go and stare, drinking up the beauty till the end of time. And that’s what you will do right now.”

Lelouch stares at his brother. “I don’t exactly follow you.”

“Listen, Lelouch. It might be a fragment, a shred, but the image of the person you’re in love with is somewhere in your mind. It’s buried deep, very deep, but that’s what art is for; for digging up the flakes of desires extending far down the mind.”

“So you’re telling me to _draw_ the person I developed feelings for?”

“It’s easier than you think.”

“It’s unlikelier than you think.”

If Clovis pay’s any heed to Lelouch’s comment he doesn’t show it, and he only hands Lelouch a paper and a newly-sharpened pencil before getting up and continuing his leisure walk.

“I want you to empty your head of everything, Lelouch, and picture the epitome of love.”

Lelouch fiddles with the pencil in his hand. “The what?”

“Everyone is beautiful, but not many people can capture your heart. Some people stand out, and even though they might be as beautiful as everyone else, in your eyes they appear to be more captivating, and they can easily find a pathway to your affection. That’s why when drawing beauty, just anyone can come into your mind. But when drawing love, there are only so many choices. So I’m asking you not to draw someone who’s beautiful, but someone who can capture your heart.”

“Was that how you came to draw that self-portrait over there?”

Clovis doesn’t even turn to know which painting Lelouch is talking about. He lifts his chin and puts one hand to his chest while the other one holds an invisible flower, an imitation of the pose he mustered in the painting.

Lelouch shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“You’ll have to be patient with yourself. You can’t force the image to come to you. You have to let it come with will of its own.”

Taking a deep breath, Lelouch closes his eyes and allows himself to conjure the image. As much as he hates to admit it Clovis’s words are logical, and this is a rather plausible way of figuring out who Lelouch is in love with.

He presses the tip of the pencil against the paper, and Clovis gives a delightful gasp. There is a mutual feeling of eagerness and anticipation, and Lelouch tightens his grip on the pencil.

But a moment later the graphite snaps under the force of Lelouch’s hand. The prince sighs as he throws the paper and pencil aside before running his hands through his hair.

“Why did you do that?” Clovis screeches.

“Because this is not going to _work_ ,” Lelouch says, more to himself than his brother. How could he be idiotic enough to believe this was actually going to work and he was actually going to figure out who he is in love with with such ease?

“But you have to be patient—”

“Well too bad because I happen to have _very_ thin patience.” Lelouch gets up. “How about I go take a nap and maybe the _epitome of love_ will show up in my dreams?”

Clovis doesn’t seem to catch on Lelouch’s mockery. “That is actually a warrantable approach.”

Lelouch storms out of the art room and marches back to his room.

~

Lelouch exhales a sigh the size of the world as he flops on his bed. He takes a moment to reduce his heart and breathing rate, to wait for the pounding in his head to subside. He still couldn’t believe he had confidence in Clovis’s plan, confidence that he will finally be freed from this cruel disease.

It was too much to hope for. It doesn’t seem likely that his suffering will end soon.

He closes his eyes and means to go to sleep but his thoughts are much too spirited to allow him to rest.

_Everyone is beautiful, but not many people can capture your heart._

Lelouch sits up. It is true that he met many people who were unbelievably gorgeous, but he’d never developed feelings for them. Only one person has managed to have his guard down and captivate him to the extent that he is now a recipient of the Hanahaki Disease.

He reaches for his nightstand and grabs a pencil and a paper. He lifts his knees to his chest so he can lean the paper on it. He closes his eyes and waits for the epitome of love to form in his mind.

The image forms almost immediately.

Lelouch keeps his eyes closed, keeps hold of the image, and his hand moves with a mind of its own.

Her lips were curved into a smile so bright it would have put the sun to shame. Her eyes were big, full of kindness, full of warmth. Her hair cascaded a long distance, almost brushing her knees. A few strands extended haphazardly, like the wind was blowing through them. Her bangs were also set in an eerie wave.

She was wearing a sleeveless dress that fell to her knees. There were ribbons in hear hair, around her neck, circling her legs, flowing all around her. There were also flower petals circulating her, a touch too scathing to Lelouch’s liking.

She had her arm extended in Lelouch’s direction, as if she was beckoning him to come forward, and if that were the case Lelouch doubted he’d refuse. She also had wings that resembled that of an angel’s, something that Lelouch compulsively draws.

The prince slowly opens his eyes to behold his sketch. He stares at it, bewildered at the fact that he actually managed to convey the image in his mind.

An image that isn’t real enough to cure him.

Lelouch shakes his head at his own foolishness as he rumples the paper and throws it into the bin.

This epitome of love has no chances of existing, much less chances of freeing Lelouch from this unending nightmare.


	3. Part 3

Lelouch doesn’t need to open his eyes to know where he is. He can feel the thorns, the blood, the _agony_. He decides to keep his eyes closed, keep lying on the ground; if he’s lucky enough he can fall back into the blithesome benumbing that is unconsciousness. But when it becomes apparent that his dismal waking is not giving in to his calmness and fervid desire to fall asleep again, he pries his eyes open, holding back a groan that desperately wanted to crawl out of his mouth.

He almost jumps from surprise, having expected to be greeted by the same infinite blackness but to instead take in light. The light was faint, though, as if the source was a distant away. Hating every second of it, Lelouch sits up, the action taking much longer time and feeling much, much more painful than when he last remembers doing it. He looks down at his body and, to his mortification, notices that the vines make more loops around his body, though he can’t tell whether more vines have grown or if the ones already present have become longer.

He doesn’t dare to so much as shift in place as he turns to the source of light, finding the same luminous silhouette standing away from him. Lelouch had the eerie feeling that the silhouette was staring at him despite not even having eyes or any other facial feature, and an eerier feeling that _he_ was staring _back_.

The silence doesn’t live for long as Lelouch sighs in irritation and says, “Are you just going to stand there? Come free me already.”

The silhouette tilts her head, as if she hadn’t understood a single word Lelouch just said.

Lelouch grits his teeth. It was already intolerable that his only company can’t even qualify to be a human, and now, adding that she doesn’t understand him just fuels the fire. He lifts his arm, moving it around as much as he can without having the thorns cut into his skin. “This. Make it go away. Like you did with the one on my foot.”

She teetered closer, looking almost nervous, but then hurriedly took a step backwards as the vines around Lelouch’s legs spread out, getting a bit closer to her.

Lelouch scowls. There was nothing for _her_ to be afraid of, not having the flesh that can be cut and the blood that can be spilled which he happens to very much have. But he doesn’t remain annoyed for long as he stares at the vines in astonishment, at how they are growing before his very eyes. First they were the ones around his legs, then his abdomen, then—

He doesn’t even have time to gasp before the vines on his shoulders wrap around his throat, tightening, cutting the air from his lungs.

He tries and tries and tries to lift his hands to his throat, wrestling against the stubborn vines. He finally manages to have his hands reach his throat but only at the sickening sound of his skin being cut very deeply, the sound of thick, huge drops of blood falling from his arms. The moment the tips of his fingers make contact with the vines he feels the vines wrap even tighter, and his entire body screams in pain.

He somehow manages to turn back to the silhouette, getting dizzy from the pain. He tries to make the words come out of his mouth: “ _Please_ ,” he chokes. “ _Please_ … _free me_.”

She finally comes closer to Lelouch and kneels in front of him. She extends her arms, but instead of her hand going to his throat it goes to the back of his head, like she was pulling him for a kiss.

She indeed pulled him closer, and it felt like everything and nothing at the same time. There was almost no space between their faces. She didn’t talk but Lelouch heard her, heard a voice sweet and serene, crystal and clear:

 _Soon_.

~

Lelouch gasps so deeply he is surprised his airway remained intact. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, shaking off the agitation that lingered from his dream. He’s been having that same petrifying dream over and over again: being stuck in an unnatural murkiness, thorny vines wrapped around him, making him unable to move, a weird presence with him, one that only seemed to be remotely human. Only this time the ending was different.

He could still hear the voice, clear-cut as if it were being spoken right next to his ear:

 _Soon_.

Lelouch suspected that there was an underlying meaning to that word, but his head hurt too much to give him a chance to ponder on it for long. He looks at the clock and sighs when he realises that he has only an hour left to his doctor’s appointment. He shakes off the sheets and braces himself for another painful day.

But even after he showered, got dressed, left his room to have breakfast and tend to his morning duties, the word still echoed in his mind. 

~

“The roots are fixated on the diaphragm and happen to experience comparatively little growth as the disease develops, while the stems experience the biggest change in length and area. The roots cut through the inner pleura and the stems begin to grow in the free space between the bronchi until the space is rendered too small, in which the stems begin to wrap around the bronchioles. This is the first of the three primary stages of the Hanahaki Disease. In most cases, the growth of the stems is extremely quick, which is responsible for people showing symptoms short periods of times after developing feelings, as it takes little time—a minimum of a few hours and a maximum of a few days—for the stems to reach the primary bronchus on either sides of the lungs. However, due to the stems lacking sturdiness, recipients only feel minor changes in lungs and breathing until the flower begins to form. The flowers form at the main stem bronchus and as the petals fall off they climb up the trachea, inducing the coughs, which is the second stage of the disease.”

Lelouch is surprised at his sincere intent as he listens to the doctor explaining to him the Hanahaki Disease in details, using a long stick to point at different parts of an elaborate diagram next to her showing a pair of lungs with flowers growing in them. The doctor hadn’t hesitated to explain everything about the disease to the prince, strongly supporting the idea of him knowing very well the situation he is in before he can try to solve it.

“Petals, and, in some cases, whole flowers, begin to fall and get coughed up when passing through the small gap of the primary bronchus. The third and final stage of the disease begins when the stems manage to grow past the bronchus, which results in whole flowers growing in the trachea, which is fatal as it takes little time to render breathing impossible and the recipient must be tended to immediately. The time taken for the disease to develop varies with factors such as age, height and weight, as well as strength of feelings. Studies show that on average it takes up to two weeks for the stems to grow past the bronchus, and that recipients can only live approximately six days once flowers begin to grow in the trachea, nonetheless cases are subject to different time limits, depending on the aforementioned factors.

“The surgery works towards removing the flowers before they manage to grow in the trachea and suffocate the victims, and is often an option taken in the final stage of the disease. The only other known cure is for the feelings to be returned. This causes the stems to shrink, moving the flowers further away from the trachea and primary bronchus, and in some cases causes the petals to disintegrate. Symptoms fully recede three days after the feelings are returned and it has been shown that it takes roughly a week for the flower to be removed from the lungs and it is then when the patient is fully cured. Any prevailing doubts, Your Highness?”

Lelouch bites down on his tongue, feeling one disturbing question take over his thoughts and it makes him doubt if he is in his right mind. He takes a deep breath. “In the one week gap between the return of the feelings and the diminishing of the flowers… would the surgery be applicable?”

The widening of the doctor’s eyes is the only indication that the question took her by surprise, though Lelouch certain she was much more shocked than that but didn’t show it. She was silent for a moment before she slowly set the stick on the table next to her. “Well, speaking in theory, the surgery is an option that can be taken into consideration provided the flowers’ presence, so it wouldn’t be entirely impossible to have it after feelings are retuned. But that’s not to say it is an option to be taken; in the majority of cases the recipients are either enthralled by the return of feelings or they are dead. It wouldn’t make sense to dispose of both the flower and the feelings once there is a chance of a joyous relationship between the recipient and the person they developed feelings for.”

“Of course,” Lelouch says quickly, not wanting to let the doctor know he was not entirely speaking in theory. “Just a hypothesis…” he adds though his voice is lower than he expected.

“Hypothesis is the foundation of development,” the doctor says, smiling at Lelouch. “According to the X-ray we took of your lungs you are still developing the second stage of the disease, so there is plenty of time for you to make your decision. I advise you to think with a clear mind, Your Highness. You would not want to be hasty on such a matter.”

Lelouch smiles as well, getting up from his chair. “I understand that. Thank you for your time, Cecile,” he says as he makes his way to the door, where Suzaku is waiting to retrieve him

“It is my pleasure, Your Highness.”

The prince joins with his knight as they both make their way out of the hospital wing, and Lelouch exhales a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding in his lungs.

Just a hypothesis…

He hasn’t though much of what he would do after the feelings are returned, provided that the premise in itself has very thin chances of occurring. But the fact remains that he wants the feelings to be returned because he is simply curious as to who he managed to develop feelings for and not much else. He definitely isn’t driven by the desire to form a relationship or anything of the sort.

Still, would he really dispose of his feelings after his knowledge is satisfied? Would he really throw away the chances of forming something he would hardly ever be given a chance to once more in his life?

And would he leave this other person—whoever they may be—with such ease?

“Is something causing you trouble, Your Highness?”

Lelouch doesn’t take notice of his own glower until he hears Suzaku speak. He quickly straightens himself and transforms his expression into nonchalance. “It’s nothing, Suzaku. I’m just… thinking.”

“It’s okay to have your mind occupied in such a way,” Suzaku says, and Lelouch is reminded of just how well his knight knows him, how easily he can know just what is on his mind and just how he feels. “You are not exactly in a situation where your mind is clear, and it’s not something you should be worrying about, Your Highness.”

Lelouch allows his shoulders to drop, allows a sigh to escape past his lips. Surely, Suzaku is the only one who can witness him in such a state. He drags his feet on the floor for a few paces before he grows weak and leans on the wall. His hand forms a fist that gently but repeatedly hits the wall. He doesn’t need to look at Suzaku to acknowledge his knight’s growing concern. 

“What if it’s someone I simply can’t be with?” Lelouch murmurs. “What if there’s something that keeps us apart? Don’t you think it adds up, Suzaku?” he asks, his voice a bit louder. “My feelings not being returned are one more sign it’s just not meant to be.”

“Maybe you speak with certitude, Your Highness,” Suzaku steps closer, and Lelouch looks up at him through his lashes. “But there’s one fact you haven’t taken into your dilemma, and that is you being Lelouch vi Britannia, a prince who knows nothing but determination and resilience, and last time I checked when the Dark Prince wants something he doesn’t stop until he gets it, paying no heed to the cost at which it comes.”

Lelouch feels the knots in his chest loosen at Suzaku’s words. He takes a deep breath as he stands straight again, flashing a smile at his knight. “You’re right, Suzaku.” Suddenly he feels his blood rush a little faster in his veins, taken on by something akin to persistence.

He _is_ determined and resilient.

He _is_ the Dark Prince.

And in this ongoing battle with fate, he will emerge victorious.

~

An uncanny need for fresh air finds Lelouch out in the garden, the place he brings himself to more often than not these days. The cool, pure air, laden with the scent of greenery pleasures his lungs in a way he can’t quite fathom. He’s always been a fan of the outdoors but now it appears that he would go crazy if he spends several successive hours inside the palace, especially since he doesn’t have much to do.

Suzaku, as well as several other guards stand a respectful distance away. The knight Lelouch is used to, but as the days passed and Lelouch grew weaker everyone insisted that the prince be surrounded by more than one figure of protection, especially given that the timings in which the disease strikes are rather haphazard. Sometimes he would simply be walking around and suddenly falls to the floor. He could be sitting with his brothers and sisters, talking normally, only to be interrupted by a series of violet coughs. He even once awoke in the dead of the night, screaming, his voice booming through the walls.

Lelouch stares at the afternoon sky, the serene blue stretching as far as his eyes can see. Has the sky always been this… captivating? Has it always made him want to stare endlessly? Now that Lelouch takes notice, everything around him has this new… feel to it and he can’t figure out what it is, which is rather unexpected from him.

The sky, the flowers, the very grass he is standing on… have they always been so colourful? Lelouch has been to this garden more times than he can count, but he doesn’t recall being so enraptured by it, at least not in a long, long time.

The prince closes his eyes, feeling unnaturally calmed and soothed, something he hasn’t had the chance to experience since he’s gotten the disease. When he opens his eyes again his feet are moving themselves, guiding him towards one of the large, lush bushes, bedecked with flowers. He runs his fingers across the blood-red petals.

_Blood red petals…_

Lelouch suddenly finds himself on his knees. At the back of his mind he registers the alarmed beckons of his name.

But he doesn’t scream.

He doesn’t writhe around.

He stays still, so still that takes note of Suzaku hesitating before approaching him. The knight, too, gets on his knees, and puts his hands on Lelouch’s back. The prince remains as still as a statue.

Even though it hurts.

It hurts a lot.

In fact, it hurts much more than the previous times.

But pain has become a familiar thing to Lelouch. He welcomes the contractions in his chest, the feeling of knives and shards of glass scraping him inside out, like he would greet an old friend.

A few coughs escape Lelouch’s mouth, the only reaction he offers to the attack of the disease. A weak smiles draws on his face as he feels the same crispness move up his chest, though now it doesn’t feel like one or more petals are climbing up his throat; it’s something rougher, something bigger. It is as the blood is dripping from his chin and onto the floor that Lelouch realises that even the taste of it in his mouth is also something he welcomes.

Lelouch coughs again and again, and, this time, a whole flower comes out of his mouth. When the pain subsides and his senses begin to return, Lelouch feels the weak smile still holding onto his lips, unwilling to let go.

~

“You’ve become quite the masochist, haven’t you Lelouch?” Clovis says, eyeing his brother in disdain though the latter could detect the concern shielded in those blue eyes. “I wouldn’t have believed you’d had the attack had I not seen the blood myself.”

Lelouch holds back a sigh, unable to be taken aback from his own actions himself. It was indeed surprising that he hadn’t screamed or caused a fit this time, and he’d yet to figure out if such should be a cause of relief or worry. He hadn’t even lost consciousness; instead got up and resumed his day like nothing had happened. The disease was now a part of his life. A part of _him_.

He’d stayed in the garden some more time, the need of fresh air intensifying. Some servants had been called to clean up the blood and, seeing them rush around, Clovis betook himself to the scene. The third prince hadn’t been half as horrified at the blood as much as he’d been about Lelouch. Lelouch who was standing perfectly fine, as if nothing had happened to him at all. Lelouch who had been smiling at the sight in front of him as if he’d been watching a butterfly break free from its cocoon and take its first flight.

Clovis had taken one of the servants aside, whispered something to her, before he’d walked Lelouch back to the palace, insisting Lelouch get some rest though the violet-eyed boy refused.

“How many times do I need to say it, I feel just fine,” Lelouch reiterates, his irritation growing.

“You look pale.”

“I’m _always_ pale!”

“Well you still look like you will collapse at any given moment if you don’t get that rest soon.”

 _Soon_. The word makes Lelouch’s stomach lurch. He’s dumbfounded for a moment, unable to remember why the word has a new feel to it that makes his heart twist in his chest. Then he remembers his perplexing dream, or rather, the end of it. He’d rendered poring over his dream unnecessary but that must have been his morning headache speaking, for now that his mind is clear, Lelouch wants to do nothing but to find out just what it meant.

He was about to turn to Clovis to let him know that he will be taking that rest but his brother was already talking to someone. Lelouch almost jumps from surprise, wondering how on Earth he didn’t see the servant approaching. Said servant was clutching a small box, and when Lelouch tried to pay attention to the words she and Clovis were exchanging he understood nothing.

Clovis took the box into his hands and thanked her, examining the box with delight and a hint of triumph, before turning to Lelouch, a smile on his face.

Only to hand the box to Lelouch.

It is after eyeing his brother in suspicion that Lelouch takes the box, sliding his fingers across the smooth surface before slowly opening the flip lid. From Clovis’s excitement, Lelouch guessed that whatever inside the box was going to be something joyful but he did not feel a single shred of joy when he looked inside the box, where a red rose laid, its red petals dark and shimmering.

Lelouch sets the box on the table next to him, next to a tall vase, and then takes the stem in his fingers and the flower out of the box in nonchalant manner. “I am flattered.”

Clovis rolls his eyes. “It’s not from _me_ , you fool, neither is it for _you_. It’s _from_ you, _to_ the girl you are in love with. A demonstration of gratitude, once you are apprised of her identity.”

“And your idea of a show of gratitude is to for me to give her a mere rose?” Lelouch lifts an eyebrow, fondling with the petals with gentle fingers.

“Oh, Lelouch. This is not just any rose.” Clovis leans closer. “This is the one you coughed up.”

Lelouch’s pupils dilate, his heart skipping a beat. He moves his fingers away from the petals as if they’d given him an electric shock, and vigorously runs his hands on his trousers. “Clovis that’s _disgusting_!”

“It’s been thoroughly cleansed and sterilised!” Clovis exclaims as if he’d been expecting such a reaction from Lelouch. “If you simmer down and think about it, this rose holds phenomenal symbolism.”

“Just what is _phenomenal_ about something that climbed up my oesophagus all covered in blood and saliva?”

Again Clovis rolls his eyes. “Well when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound romantic at all!”

“There _isn’t_ a better way to put it!” Lelouch puts the rose back in the box, rubbing his hands together again, trying to remove the very memory of the feel of the flower. “Romance might be an area where I lack experience but I am pretty sure that giving a girl something I coughed up is not romantic.”

The blue-eyed prince takes a deep breath. “This flower is symptomatic of not only the love you feel, but also the pain you are going through to make it possible. It’s a hardship you tolerated all for the sake of one person who so happens to be the one person that can get you out of it.”

Lelouch stays silent.

A thin smile draws on Clovis’s lips. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Lelouch fills his lungs with as much air as they can take. “I think I’ll go take a nap.”

Clovis deadpans. “You are a hopeless romantic.”

Lelouch smiles as if he’s been complimented, and proceeds to stride off. “We can continue the love-talk this evening but I wouldn’t get my hopes too high.”

“I’m starting to feel bad for the poor soul that has gained your so-called affection.”

Ignoring his brother, Lelouch makes his way to his chambers. He walks for a while, his ears betaking the sound of his footsteps and breaths that are worryingly akin to pants. He tries his best to rid his mind of all the love and pain and hardships and other stuff Clovis was talking about. Although a part of him couldn’t deny that he is indeed a hopeless romantic.

He is already itching to lie on his bed and pay no heed to anything in his life.

The violet-eyed boy was halfway through to his chambers before he halted when he was about to take a turn, as he heard some voices and recognised some words. He discreetly takes a peek, and sees a few aristocrats gathered together, leaning into each other as if they were discussing something of secrecy.

But Lelouch already caught on.

“An ignominy they are, those children of Marianne,” one says.

“The boy was always known to have commoners over all the time but now the girl modeling herself on him,” says the other. “She’s already invited the one from the royal ball—that Shirley Fenette—twice now, and I hear she’s coming tonight as well. Just what is on their _minds_?”

“It must have not been enough of a chagrin that Lady Marianne herself used to be commoner. It’s like they’re asking people to think even lowlier of them.”

Lelouch leisurely clears his throat and takes steps forward, walking straighter, all high and mighty as if to say _it is I, the person you were just talking about thinking I couldn’t hear_.

The aristocrats quickly transform their poses and faces as if they are totally delighted by the company. They all bow and mutter Lelouch’s title as if they were not trash talking the prince just a second ago. Admittedly, Lelouch was momentarily surprised at the change of behaviour but he quickly guessed that it’s nothing these people have never done before.

He doesn’t acknowledge them. Only lifts the corner of his lip in a haughty smirk and he continues his way to his chambers as if nothing had happened. And nothing did, anyway, when taking into account things he cares about.

He can feel his tiredness grow when he reaches his room, and he allows himself to sigh as he gets in and closes the door behind him. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way to his bed, and his eyebrows furrow when he spots something on it. He recognises it from a distance: the same box Clovis had given him earlier. It is accompanied by a small note in Clovis’s elegant cursive, ever the artist that prince is:

_Just in case you change your mind_

Lelouch shakes his head but he feels a smile tug at his lips. If anything he’s grateful of Clovis’s support, accompanying absurdity and all. He takes the flower out of the box and twirls it in his fingers.

Pain and love, love and pain. The two were opposite sides of the same coin. Lelouch holds the flower to his chest.

 _Soon_ , the voice echoes in his mind.

 _I’ll be waiting for you_ , Lelouch thinks, all to himself. _You’re the only one who can free me_.

~

Shirley, it seems, needs to live the experience more than three times to _not_ have every one of her organs contract upon entering the palace. It’s not just the atmosphere of royalty or the several guards that surround her; the very steps she takes on the floor of the palace feel out of place. The ginger knows full well she does not bear the least particle of adherence to anything related to royalty, though Princess Nunnally emphasised time and again that it does not matter to her.

“It’s not important at all, which class you belong into,” the princess would say, smiling at Shirley. “You’d still be Shirley Fenette, and that’s the only thing you need to be.”

A small smile curves Shirley’s lips and she is keenly aware of the cool glare the guard to her right gives her. She gulps. Every more second she spends inside the circle of guards around her her heart pounds more fiercely in her chest. She missteps and stumbles, but the one of the guards was quick to hold her upper arm and although the grip was rather tight it kept her from falling and for that she was grateful. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she plays with her hair, resenting the long walk that doesn’t seem to have an end.

“My my, what do we have here?”

Shirley looks up to see someone approaching the circle of guards. She freezes when recognition hits her.

“Miss Fenette here is being taken to Her Highness Nunnally vi Britannia,” one of the guards speaks.

“Well if it’s _my_ sister she’s going to I’d only deem it appropriate that _I_ would be the one escorting her. That is if you don’t mind that, Miss Fenette?”

The guards step aside as he draws closer and it takes all of Shirley’s might to meet those violet eyes.

The eyes that had once owned her heart.

Prince Lelouch had a smile on his lips and a hand outstretched in offering. Shirley hesitated but guessed that it would be rude of her to refuse, and slowly put a shaky hand in the prince’s. He waited for her to take the first step and slowly ushered her along, as if he were afraid that she would run away in fear if he wasn’t careful.

Once the guards were well away and Shirley and Lelouch were by themselves, the latter’s smile fell from his lips, and he eyes Shirley in concern. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Shirley takes longer than required to register the question and to come up with an answer. “I-I’m fine,” she says, her voice uncontrollably shaky.

“The guards can be rather tense, but they’re just doing their job,” Lelouch says, looking ahead again. “But I’m glad I was able to stumble upon you, I’ve been meaning to say something important to you, and I could only do it in person.”

A shiver runs down Shirley’s spine.

Lelouch takes a deep breath. “I wanted to thank you, for keeping Nunnally happy. She seems to be enthralled by your company, which is something she needed, especially under the current circumstances. My sister’s happiness is my own happiness. Suffice to say, you’ve greatly helped us both in this rough time and really, I can’t thank you enough.”

Shirley’s heart picks up speed. She’d heard lots and lots about Lelouch from Nunnally, mostly things that took her by surprise, if she were being honest. She knew for sure that the prince’s own sister had the more solid information than other media sources but it was nonetheless hard to believe that the Dark Prince wasn’t so… dark.

She suddenly realises she’s been quiet for too long. “Ah—no—it’s my pleasure, Your Highness. Your sister’s company is a pleasure in itself.” Shirley nervously laughs.

Lelouch hums in satisfaction and so the two continue walking in silence. Shirley suddenly realises how cold she feels. The weather is a bit chilly and, although her better judgment insisted otherwise, she thought that the sleeveless white dress she is wearing would be an excellent choice of clothing to visit the palace in, even though, for all she knew, she could have come in sweatpants and Nunnally would have showered her in compliments.

Shirley folds her arms on her chest, trying to suppress her shivers. Lelouch, who was still looking ahead, shrugs off his jacket and puts it on her shoulders. He could have placed a living crow on Shirley’s shoulders and the ginger would have been less terrified. She stops walking, even stops breathing. Lelouch takes a few steps before turning back, flashing her a questioning look. Shirley doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know her face is as red as a rose. She brings herself to continue walking, her eyes glued to the floor.

She doesn’t put her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, instead lets it awkwardly hang on her shoulders. The jacket is warm, and smells faintly of flowers, and for some reason makes Shirley’s skin tingle. With her head still lowered, she glances up at Lelouch through her eyelashes. The prince gives her a reassuring smile, a smile that makes Shirley melt.

And something hits Shirley with full force, making her feel as if the floor beneath her has tilted.

Lelouch is not the arrogant, tyrannical prince everyone perceives him to be, the one who pictures himself high and above everyone else. He’s warm-hearted boy. He’s a loving older brother. He’s someone who only cares for the happiness of his loved one’s. He’s…

…everything Shirley ever fell in love with.

Everything Shirley is _still_ in love with.

Said girl can feel her cheeks as well as her whole body become warmer. She inhales deeply as she feels the familiar contractions in her chest, the tickling sensation as the petals climb up her throat. At the back of her mind she acknowledges Lelouch worryingly asking if she’s okay.

Before she knows it, Shirley coughs, and several petals fly into the air like confetti. She puts a hand over her mouth but Lelouch was already eying the petals with astonishment.

“You too?” the prince says, extending his hand in perfect timing for a petal to slowly fall into his palm.

Shirley waits for her shock to abide. It’s been weeks since she’d coughed up petals. “Well—I… it’s complicated.” She fists the jacket tightly, lowering her head

“What do you mean it’s complicated?” Lelouch turns to her, still clutching the petal in his hand. He sounded more concerned than curious.

There’s no need to hide it now, a voice says in Shirley’s head.

“I… I _was_ in love,” she starts. “But my feelings were for a person whom I knew for a fact I would never end up with. Someone… someone I just can’t be with. So I… I discarded my feelings.”

Lelouch’s eyebrows knit. “Discarded you feelings?” he tilts his head.

Shirley doesn’t dare to meet Lelouch’s gaze. “I lay aside his perfections and only focused on his flaws. I told myself that he’s not the person I believed him to be, that he’s actually a deplorable person not worthy any of my love or my attention. I told myself—I convinced myself that I’m not in love and slowly… gradually…”

“ _Impossible_ ,” Lelouch whispers.

“The petals stopped coming.” Shirley weakly smiles as she eyes the petals on the floor. “But I guess I can’t even fool my own heart for long.” When she dares to look up at Lelouch, she is greeted by wide violet eyes. Lelouch was looking like he was partly wondering why she would do such a thing and partly whether such a thing was scientifically possible in the first place.

Lelouch was quiet for a moment, but that moment matured into a minute and that minute matured into more minutes and it was starting to get awkward. Shirley was about to speak when—

Lelouch fell to his knees, shooting an arm at the wall for support at the very last second.

“Y-Your Highness!” Shirley shrieks. She gets on her own knees and gets closer to Lelouch, but hesitates when she reaches for him. When Lelouch proceeds to cough she decides that putting a hand on the prince’s back might not get her in trouble.

Lelouch’s coughs get fiercer, his hands turning into a fist and pounding at his chest. Shirley gently claps on his back but the action doesn’t seem to make him feel any better. Lelouch takes a deep breath in the midst of the coughs and—

Nothing happens.

He stays frozen for a moment, as if he’s waiting for his body to jerk itself. He slowly runs his hand on his chest and when no coughs are induced he gets to a sitting position, doing so with great care, as if the world would implode if he moves a little too quickly.

“A-are you okay?” Shirley asks in a low voice, her hand still on his back.

“I’m… fine,” Lelouch says, less of a statement and more of a question. He looked like he was wondering why he is fine, and Shirley wasn’t any different.

Shirley exhales a sigh of relief and stands up again. She offers a hand to Lelouch, smiling, somewhat pleasured with the switching of roles. But when Lelouch looks up at her, he looks like he’s seen as ghost. His orbs widen, and his jaw was practically on the floor.

“ _It’s_ _you_ ,” the prince gasps.

And before Shirley could inhale, Lelouch gets up and grabs her hand, holding it tightly as he sprints in the direction in which they came from, dragging the girl along with him.

“Your Highness, where are you taking me?” Shirley asks but doesn’t even know if Lelouch heard her.

He runs like their lives were depending on it. He dashes along corridors and takes many turns. Indeed the majority of the palace was unknown to Shirley, but she still found the place Lelouch took her to strangely unfamiliar. She abruptly realises he’s taken her to his private quarters, and her body almost jolts at the prospect.

Lelouch only lets go of her when they reach his chambers. He throws open the door and dashes inside the room, leaving Shirley to follow at a much more reasonable pace. A few moments pass by when she reaches the prince, and she is dumbfounded when she sees him take a bin and dump its contents over his bed.

Shirley watches, at a loss for words, as Lelouch searches through the mess, throwing aside whatever wasn’t what he was looking for. Lelouch was so frantic Shirley was almost afraid to get any closer to him. She was about to ask again if the prince was okay when he reached as far as his arm could extend across his bed, for a rumpled paper that he hadn’t yet examined. He feverishly opens the paper, almost tearing it in the process, and lays it on his bed, running a flat hand across it to straighten it.

Shirley’s body turns into stone when she glances at the paper.

It was a sketch of her.

It lacked detail and looked like it was drawn in a rush, but it was, with no doubt, _her_.

Lelouch looks from the paper to Shirley and back again. Shirley was about question the reasons behind many, many things, when he suddenly got up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if she might disintegrate at any moment.

The green-eyed girl stays still, so still that Lelouch would’ve probably had more of a reaction if he had hugged a statue.

“It’s you,” Lelouch repeats the words he’d said earlier. “It’s _always_ been you.” The way he whispers the words into her Shirley’s ear makes a shiver run down her spine. Lelouch slowly puts space between them, little enough so he can still have his arms around her but large enough so their eyes can meet.

“I need to know, Shirley,” the violet-eyed boy says quietly. “Who was the person you fell in love with.”

Shirley bites down on her tongue to keep her from bursting the one word she was dying to say. She stays silent, but concedes when a low chuckle escapes her. She shakes her head and locks her gaze on Lelouch. “You’re really not the intuitive prince everyone says you are if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

Violet orbs widen, and Lelouch makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “It all makes sense now,” he runs a hand through his hair as he sits on his bed. “You got the disease before I had feelings for you, and by the time I did develop feelings you had discarded your own, so it practically meant you didn’t return my feelings and that’s how I ended up getting the disease. The pieces are aligning.” When he notices Shirley still standing as the statue he pats on the spot next to him on the mattress, and the female hesitates before joining him.

Shirley’s lips press into a tight line. If Lelouch figured out that all the things Shirley had said about focusing on flaws and being a deplorable person was actually about him then he didn’t seem bothered about it.

“It can’t be…” Shirley says, more to herself than Lelouch. It was justifiable she fell in love with a prince, but for the prince to love her _back_? That was just absurd. “There… There has to be a mistake…”

The joy fades from Lelouch’s profile. “Fate can be mischievous, fate can be tyrannical, but it can never make mistakes.”

“No…” Shirley fiddles with a few locks of her hair. “It can’t be. You—you’re a prince and I’m—” she isn’t able to continue her sentence when Lelouch embraces her again.

Locked in those arms Shirley feels her agitation slowly melt away. Lelouch holds her tightly, with love, with _certainty_.

“I know this is a lot to take in at once,” Lelouch says gently, as if he were speaking to a small child. “So how about this,” he slowly breaks them apart, and locks their eyes together. “Right now, just go to Nunnally. She’s still waiting for you. Go to her and don’t think about anything else.”

“And after that what do I do?” Shirley’s voice is no louder than a whisper.

Lelouch takes a deep breath. “Three days. That’s how long it takes for symptoms to vanish. I want you to come here again in three days. I’ll send you an official invitation. But during that time, Shirley, I need you to embrace your feelings.”

The words make Shirley’s heart skip a beat.

“Don’t discard anything. Accept whatever feelings you get, and I’ll do the same. Whether or not you show symptoms I want you to come again to me. Three days. Is that okay, Shirley?”

Feeling her body grow numb, Shirley nods her head. She keeps her eyes locked with Lelouch’s and the prince’s words from earlier ring loudly in her mind, over and over again:

_Fate can be mischievous, fate can be tyrannical, but it can never make mistakes._


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took too long writing the finale, I apologise. I was left at the mercy of a terrible writer's block. Though I admit I never forced myself back into writing. Quality was a priority, and this being the final part, I wanted to do my very best. So I waited for the right time to write, even if the time was too long. I worked very hard on this, and I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Lelouch welcomes the pain as if it were an embrace from a dear friend. He doesn’t bother to sit up, doesn’t bother to open his eyes. He stays still as the vines wrap more and more tightly around him, as his clothes get more and more soaked with blood. He even feels a weak smile form on his lips. Fighting had only brought him more pain and it is evident that if he stays still long enough it will all go away.

He will feel nothing.

How magnificent it would be, to feel nothing at all.

The vine around Lelouch’s throat constricts, cutting the air from his lungs, and the violet-eyed boy feels himself getting closer, and closer, and closer—

A fierce gasp escapes Lelouch as the strangulation at his throat abruptly disappears. His eyes fly open, but only to narrow again when in place of the eerie darkness they take in an abnormally bright light. When he regains his senses, Lelouch acknowledges the silhouette sitting in from him.

The silhouette slowly brings her finger to contact with the vines around Lelouch’s body, and Lelouch watches in absolute astonishment as the vines dissolve into nothing. First it was the vines around his shoulders and chest, then slowly cascading down his body. Once his left arm was free Lelouch lifted it, the action manifesting a strong tingling sensation in his muscles. His mouth is kept hung open as he finds difficulty in processing the situation. Could it be that just as his arm is free, he, as a whole, would be free?

His eyes finally adjust to the brightness, and he turns to stare at the silhouette in amazement. It bothered Lelouch how her face was empty of any features, because he was aching to find out just what expression she would be wearing at the moment. Though some part of him insisted she was smiling.

The vines at Lelouch’s abdomen were gone, and pain slowly receded from the top of his body. He had been expecting his body to become numb once the pain was gone, but he was utterly wrong, for his body was thriving with a new feeling. It wasn’t pain.

It was…

…something pleasant.

Something he’d never felt before his entire life.

Something he wants to keep feeling for the rest of his life.

The stunning sensation spreads throughout his body, making him feel like soft rose petals are cascading over his skin. The silhouette proceeded to clean off the vines from Lelouch’s legs, and the raven-haired boy couldn’t believe he would actually be freed until it happened. The vines were completely g0ne, and the pain was becoming a distant memory as well.

The gears of Lelouch’s brain were frozen, his entire being unable to move or comprehend what just happened. He was all but able to move his head, to turn to the silhouette, casting an aghast stare on her. And now it was not a mere guess when he believed she was smiling at him.

He could _feel_ her smiling at him.

The silhouette got up and offered Lelouch a hand, and the latter spent longer than a moment trying to decide whether to take it or not. He stared at the little flickers of light bouncing around her hand. It was the first time he’d seen the silhouette up close, and he was mesmerised by her build. She was made of pure white light, something that would have put every single star in the sky to shame.

Lelouch produces a shaky breath that makes all agitation leave his body, and reaches for the hand in front of him. His and the silhouette’s hands were intertwined firmly, and the latter helped him up, much to the dismay of his wounds. His body was rather shaky, but the silhouette made him stand on his feet with great ease. It was like her mere presence supplied Lelouch’s strength. But the boy was on his feet for no more than a second when everything around him shattered.

The darkness broke like glass, falling to reveal the bright, buttery light of an afternoon sun in a serene blue sky. The ground he was standing on shifted to lush grass, unbelievably soft and twinkling in the cascading sunlight. It was as if everything around him was singing a symphony of utmost joy.

The abrupt change in his surroundings almost nauseated Lelouch, but it was the changes in _him_ that astounded him the most. His body was no longer sore and tired. Energy coursed through his veins. His wounds were no more. The torn, bloody clothes he was wearing suddenly became brand new, as clean as ever, as white as snow.

Lelouch stared around him in amazement. Just a little while ago he was prepared to bid his life farewell in desperation. And now…

He does a double take when he stares right next to him. The silhouette had changed as well.

The major difference was that she was no longer a mere silhouette, instead an actual human being. With fair skin, green eyes, and long ginger hair.

With a smile brighter than the sun itself.

“Shirley,” Lelouch gasps.

Said girl looked breathtakingly beautiful despite only wearing a plain dress, just as white as Lelouch’s shirt and trousers, that descended all the way to her knees. She takes a step closer to Lelouch and takes both his hands into hers. She held them tightly, as if to affirm that she is indeed here with him. The action makes something burst in Lelouch’s chest; the same unfamiliar yet pleasant feeling he’d gotten earlier, except a thousand times fold.

He was truly free.

It was too good to believe.

Lelouch slowly moves one hand to Shirley’s head, softly cupping her cheek. Before he knew it his forehead was leaned against hers. A gentle wind was blowing, making waves through their hair and ripples through their clothes.

It was all in a wonderful moment that he wanted to stretch for all eternity.

He was free.

~

Lelouch slowly opens his eyes.

His senses are momentarily frenzied. He was sure that just a moment ago he’d been standing, taking in a bright light, and now he was laying on his bed, with nothing to stare at but the ceiling of his dark bedroom. But what was most peculiar was this eerie sensation in his body. It manifested in his chest, but every single muscle in his body was tingling.

The boy shakes his head but nonetheless feels a faint laugh bubble in his chest. He should know better than to let feelings induced by his dreams linger. If something was indeed worthy of occupying his mind then it should be birthed in his wakening, not while he is unconscious. Nevertheless, to be engulfed in a feeling this pleasant, Lelouch can’t really complain, in spite of when, where or how this feeling developed.

He moves to the edge of his bed and reaches for his nightstand, where the sketch of Shirley lies. He gently traces the worn-out paper, his fingers moving haphazardly. He tries to clear his mind but isn’t successful. It has only been two days since his encounter with Shirley but Lelouch feels it’s been two lifetimes. Every passing moment carried a torment of emotions with it. He’d be filled with gratitude, knowing that he is slowly escaping the clutches of this cruel disease. He occasionally found himself dreaming, thinking just how his life would be if that were to truly happen.

To love, and be loved. It’s something he’s yet to experience, and while it is guaranteed that love never sparks enthusiasm in Lelouch, he can’t help but enjoy the warmth that comes to his chest whenever he thinks of the possibilities he has with Shirley.

But speaking of possibilities…

Lelouch softly sighs as he rolls to the middle of his bed again. He doesn’t want to think of it. He _can’t_ think of it.

Lelouch never thought there would come a time where his tendency to figure out every single possibility ahead of him would do him harm. He knows that it is one of his best qualities but in this particular situation he doesn’t want to think what would happen if things don’t turn out the way he wants them to.

They way he hopes they do.

All it takes is a single thought of him or Shirley coughing a petal and the boy loses his mind. Within him there is fear that all of a sudden everything will fall apart, that this whole thing will reveal itself to be one perfect mistake.

A perfectly shaped, perfectly timed mistake.

Every time his chest contracts he freezes with fear, agitation spreading within him as he waits in horror to see if flower petals are climbing up his oesophagus. The entire world would halt, and those few agonising moments would feels like years in the back of his mind. He was continuously worried, despite the fact that his doctor had confirmed that he is indeed slowly being cured from the disease.

It was shown in yet another x-ray taken of the prince’s lungs. When compared with older x-rays, it was clear that the flowers in Lelouch’s lungs had shrunk. Although the doctor did deduce that the shrinking is occurring rather slowly. This did, however, open the window to a certain hypothesis Lelouch had mentioned in an earlier appointment. The doctor was neither joyous nor downcast when she had told Lelouch that, despite the feelings being returned, he still had plenty of time to decide whether he is going for the surgery or not.

The words had caught Lelouch by surprise, and it had taken him a moment to remember that it was him who had first mentioned the possibility of going for the surgery even if his feelings were to be returned.

But that was before he realised the truth.

Before he discovered that it was Shirley he’s in love with.

Before he’d developed the desire to form a relationship with Shirley.

Lelouch clearly remembers how he had replied to the doctor.

Even though he had no guarantee that this would work out, no guarantee that his battle with fate will be over, in his heart he knew what he wanted.

It was his heart that did the talking.

_“No, doctor.” Lelouch smiles. “The surgery is no longer an option.”_

~

Shirley finds herself fascinated by how the flow of time has slowed and slowed ever since her encounter with Lelouch. She knows it’s all in her mind, yet she can’t help but feel that the entire world has changed since that day. She can’t tell how, exactly, everything has changed, but she is easily aware that it brings her back to the time where she was a remarkably lovestruck girl. It’s the same invisible petals tingling her skin, the same acrobatics her heart is doing in her chest.

She brings the rose up to her nose again, and slowly inhales a long breath, taking in the sweet scent of the petals. The rose was as any other she’d ever seen, typical colour and scent even. Still, there was something peculiar about it, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that Lelouch had given her the rose, but Shirley suspected there was some other underlying cause to it. Said prince had insisted Shirley take the rose, even though he had no confirmation the girl is truly his love, and it made the gesture all the more loving. He said that it could help Shirley decide on her feelings, and that if it didn’t, he’d want her to have it anyway; she had his gratitude in any case.

Shirley’s mind was a rollercoaster. Her thoughts were unkempt to the extent that she couldn’t even fully register the gesture until she’d returned home that night. Only when she’d laid in bed, her body almost as weary as her mind. She held the rose in front of her, watching as the moonlight reflected off the crimson petals. And all of a sudden the feelings flooded her like a wave crashing on a desert. It was like she was sinking into a lake, warm water and leaves and petals washing over her. It was a sensation more delightful than words could describe.

A sensation she never wanted to go away.

Even though there was a possibility it would leave, maybe even take a part of her with it.

Lelouch could have already coughed up a flower petal. Reality could have already shed off its beautiful mask. The smoke and mirrors could have already cleared and presented them with what they never wanted to see.

Shirley had known from the very beginning odds were exceedingly grim, yet it struck her with the same force every time, the possibility that she was not actually the person Lelouch is in love with. That Lelouch has gotten the disease because of some other girl, an aristocrat maybe, a girl that could easily be with Lelouch with no obstacles keeping her away from the prince.

Such scenario fitted both ideally and logically. But Shirley didn’t want to think with logic. Or rather, she couldn’t, for her heart was the only thing harbouring her thoughts right now. Her heart was doing all the thinking and talking, and it was telling her that being with Lelouch is something Shirley needs to be complete. There was an empty space inside her where Lelouch wasn’t there, a void she never knew existed until she came to know of what could fill it. All these thoughts made her heart race until it wasn’t certain her ribs would stay intact.

She takes in another deep breath to calm herself down.

Just one more day.

One more day and the truth will be found out. Whether it is what Shirley hopes it will be or what she fears it will be, it will be uncovered.

~

Lelouch had forgotten what it was like to not constantly be in pain.

Sitting in the garden on this sunny, serene afternoon, enjoying some quality time with his sister to compensate for the time lost due to his sickness, the eleventh son is harboured by an intense, pleasant yet unfamiliar feeling. He knows only a short while has passed since he’d gotten the disease and was embraced by the accompanying fatigues and severe chest pains, yet he feels it’s been an eternity since he’s been free from such physical torment. To be able to breathe with ease, to not worry about suddenly losing consciousness. It all throws Lelouch’s senses into turmoil, makes a feeling akin to numbness claim his being.

“I’m more than delighted to have a chance to spend time with you,” came Nunnally’s sweet, lullaby-like voice. The sunlight is making her caramel hair shine, and the wind is making little waves through it.

“Same as I, Nunnally.” Lelouch smiles at his sister. It is a fact that his sister’s presence takes majority of credit for his calmed state. The Hanahaki Disease had not only robbed Lelouch of his wellbeing, but also of the time he spent with Nunnally. The time the prince had in anyone’s company, at that, was vigorously limited, but Nunnally was a special case, for Lelouch dared not allow the two of them to be together even on his better days. The attacks of the disease were alarmingly unpredictable, and he wanted all but to hear Nunnally’s screams, see the tears in her eyes when he suddenly chokes and coughs and falls to the ground. Nunnally hated Lelouch suffering but Lelouch even more hated her _watching_ him suffer.

Suffice to say the two of them have hardly seen each other in the past while. However, after Lelouch’s encounter with Shirley and the doctor’s confirmation that the clutches of the disease are slowly being loosened around Lelouch, the prince deemed it innocuous to spend some time with Nunnally, even if it is only sitting in the garden, eyeing the vivid scenery surrounding them.

“You seem to be getting better,” Nunnally remarked and even though her eyes were fixed on some bushes in the distance Lelouch couldn’t look at her.

He lightly chuckles before saying, “It’s the fresh air. The doctor said it helps.” A lie on top of a lie.

Said doctor was the only person who knew Lelouch’s feelings have been returned, and was sworn to keep it a royal secret. The word couldn’t go out, not until Lelouch met with Shirley tomorrow to clear whatever more obstacles the two had in their way. Not until the two decided what happens next.

Not until Lelouch ends his battle with fate.

It is only when the thought plants itself in Lelouch’s mind that his whole body freezes. He feels a familiar pain in his chest, like something is being wrapped around him.

His heart rate escalates.

He gives a rather vigorous flinch, and is well aware of Nunnally’s concern for him shadowing over them, like a gray cloud covering the bright sun. He tries to take slow, careful breaths, but he can all but seize control and they come in short, panicked gasps.

The pain becomes greater.

Suddenly Lelouch gets dizzy. His vision is a blur of green and blue, spots of other colours dancing around. He can barely feel Nunnally’s hand shaking his shoulder, much less hear her screaming his name, which she probably is. He can feel a slightly rougher hand on his back—Suzaku? When did he approach? More importantly, when did Lelouch bend his back like this?

He feels something climb up his throat.

A fierce gasp escapes him.

No.

There is nothing climbing up his throat.

It is all in his head, a trick pain is playing on him.

A trick!

Because he’s...

He’s...

All at once the image forms in Lelouch’s mind: vivid green eyes, long, flowing ginger hair, a smile brighter than the sun itself. A snowy dress, ribbons and petals flying around. A fraction of a second ago Lelouch’s vision was cloudy, impossibly blurry, and now he could see the image of Shirley so clearly, almost as if it were right in front of him. He not only sees it, but he feels it. He feels the tenderness and passion and warmth and—

He feels the love.

The one feeling Lelouch could never, for all his highness is worth, be able to understand, was now coursing though his veins. Clearing his mind. Easing his breathing. Dissolving his pain.

Lelouch gradually gets a hold of himself again. He takes deep, measured breaths and straightens his back. He can feel tears at the corners of his eyes. He takes notice of several guards closing in on him and lifts his palm, beckoning them away. He is unsure if they trust he is well now.

He takes one more, heavy breath through his mouth, feeling the air go in and out of his windpipe.

In and out. As easily as ever, with nothing in the way.

Nothing.

“Le-Lelouch?” Nunnally calls in a low, shaky voice. “Are you okay?”

Just to strengthen his certainty, Lelouch repeats the action, taking in a heavy breath though his mouth.

Again, nothing.

He turns to his sister, holding her hands in a reassuring manner. He tries for a smile. “Yes, Nunnally, I’m okay. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” He squeezes her hands.

Silence sets in around them, and Lelouch doesn’t know what to make of it which didn’t matter because inside him was anything but silent at the moment.

_Just you wait, Nunnally._

_All of you wait._

_One more day and you will see me manifesting myself out of this battle, winning against fate._

~

That night Lelouch lay in bed, unable to sleep. The mystery and anticipation of the next day kept driving sleep away. His thoughts were spinning round and round that it didn’t even hurt anymore; his head just felt numb. He could only take in one exasperating breath after another. He kept rolling in the sheets, unable to find comfort whatsoever. It isn’t long before he gives up on sleeping and kicks the sheets off, getting out of bed.

He makes his way to the window and pulls it open with more force than needed. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, beckoning his body to relax. When he opens his eyes again they are immediately fixed on the starry sky above. It was hard to find melancholy in the darkness when the stars were so bright and so captivating.

Lelouch feels the cool breeze of the night on his skin. It contributes to making him relax but doesn’t do much to drive his thoughts away.

Love was something Lelouch never understood, yet with all the little knowledge he’d had of it, he never guessed it would be so painful. He was told that love relieves pain and fills one with unspeakable merriment but after living the experience he can’t find it in himself to give credence to such words. All Lelouch had gotten out of love was pain, pain that came in strangles and fits and bloody flower petals.

Even now, as peaceful as he could never even dream of being, Lelouch was still in pain.

He could only cling onto that tiny, desperate sliver of hope buried deep, deep inside him. That faint voice in his mind telling him that the pain will be over soon.

That together, he and Shirley would put an end to all the pain.

As weak as the voice was, it gave Lelouch courage, strength to keep going.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the stars. He doesn’t know how long he stood there, but he doesn’t remember going to sleep.

~

The nights before a visit to the palace never suggested a sound sleep for Shirley, that is guaranteed, but tonight seems to be an entirely different case. A visit to the palace, a huge school event—nothing has pushed Shirley to the point of being unable to fall asleep, at least not to this extent. She tried and tried and tried, but her eyes refuse to shut, just as her mind.

It wasn’t long before she found herself getting out of bed, rendering it useless to struggle finding sleep when sleep was locking itself away. She doubts she was thinking when she made her way to the windowsill, where the rose Lelouch had given her was in a small, clear vase filled with enough water for a single rose. Despite the unlikely circumstances given for the rose, it seemed to be shimmering with life. Again, Shirley wonders just what about the rose is special, but she is only so lucky to point a finger on it.

The moonlight was reflecting off the crimson petals, reminding Shirley of the other petals that were once in her throat. It was peculiar how from the moment she was with Lelouch, the moment she felt those arms wrap around her and lock her in a warm embrace, pain itself became no more than a distant memory. Pain, worry, sorrow... All negative emotions suddenly became unfamiliar to Shirley, and only things akin to joy were known to exist.

Of course, Shirley was very well aware that wasn’t the case. She knew for a fact that the path she is walking with Lelouch will be filled with many, many hardships. The path was not entirely made of cloudless skies and colourful flowers. There was also the dark, the forbidding lurking in the shadows. Still, Shirley couldn’t find it in herself to be discouraged; the stares need the darkness to shine, after all.

And that is the embodiment of her and Lelouch; they will become the bright stars in the dark sky, the beautiful petals on the bloody flowers. Sacrifices will be made. Prices will be paid. But they will get through it all.

~

“So I hear you have a friend coming over today.”

Lelouch jumps at the sudden voice coming from behind him. His shakiness quickly makes way for irritation when recognition hits him.

Clovis makes his way from behind the velvety couch to stand in front of his brother. “I just can’t seem to figure out what it is with you and the uninteresting folk.”

“They are not uninteresting just because they open doors by themselves and don’t wear clothes that drip diamonds,” Lelouch quickly retorts. He is used to reciting similar words to royals that just don’t understand that people in other social classes are no different from them.

“Everyone is aware of your outlandish taste, that’s a fact. Still, I was taken aback that you’d invite one of them over under such circumstances.” Clovis seats himself on the chair next to Lelouch. “You know, with you in the holds of a fatal disease and all.”

“I’m on my better days now, thank you for your concern.” The sardonic manner flows out of Lelouch like water down a river.

“Oh please, you don’t even have good days, let alone better ones.” The third son runs a hand through his golden locks. “And don’t you think it’s rather indecorous of you to go around inviting your lowly acquaintances over when there is a certain someone you should be devoting all your time to at the moment?”

Lelouch doesn’t take time to come up with a lie, given the pityingly idiotic person he is talking to. “How can I devote my time to someone I don’t even know?” He didn’t plan to sound irritated as if he was speaking the truth; the irritation came by itself because, again, it’s Clovis he’s talking to.

“Certainly not by spending time with someone whom you are sure is not the person you are in love with.”

An abrupt quietness captivates Lelouch. He is not surprised by his brother’s words; of course his highness is expected to have fallen in love with another member of the upper class. Of course everyone would expect his affection to bestowed upon an aristocrat or someone of the like, and not a commoner. He knows there’s no point even hoping such mentality would change but he is unable to restrain a forceful grit of his teeth.

“Your love is out there, Lelouch,” Clovis continues and even though he means to sound tender the manner doesn’t do much to calm Lelouch’s fury. “You just need to do a little more searching to find her and free yourself from the torture of the Hanahaki Disease. Just why would you elongate the period of your sickness and waste your time with—What was her name? Shirley Fenette? When you know she isn’t the one—”

It was hearing her name that made Lelouch explode. He slams a hand on the arm of the couch, momentarily resenting who the soft material isn’t contributing to showing his anger, and pushes himself up, standing straight, already turning away.

“I hate to break it to you, Clovis, but only _I_ get to render whom spending time with is or is not a waste. If my outlandish taste is something you are well aware of then my adamant nature should be no different. I couldn’t care less what you or anyone has to say to the decisions I take when it comes to my acquaintanceships and I never will. So how about _you_ stop wasting my time and let me spend it with whoever I decide to spend it with?” He doesn’t even wait for Clovis to answer his question before he starts walking away.

When Clovis does reply, though, he doesn’t seem to be shaken by any of Lelouch’s words, and even though Lelouch’s back is turned to his brother he can tell the blond is waving his words away. “Trust me; everyone knows how stubborn you are. Well, your friend is coming over in any case, so why not let her check out my art room? You know, just so she gains something out of this evening.”

In his mind, Lelouch was already shaping another angry lecture to give his brother, but he decides not to waste his energy and makes his way to the door, where his knight waits for him.

He walks through hall after hall but is it only when he is halfway through to his chambers that his weariness settles in. He feels pain pulse in his chest and halts, leaning on the wall. He lightly pants, pressing a hand on his chest. Suzaku, who has been walking by his side, pauses as well, flashing him a look of concern.

“Shall I call on the doctor, Your Highness?”

Lelouch waves his palm at his knight, taking a few extra moments to regain his energy. “No need,” he says and is well aware that he very much sounds in need of a doctor. He takes another deep breath, willing the pain to go away.

Tonight.

Just endure it until tonight.

It’s only a matter of time before the truth is revealed.

The pain slowly fades away. Lelouch’s hand falls to his side and it is only when his vision clears that he realises it was blurred in the first place. He takes another deep breath before he continues walking. The rest of the walk doesn’t evoke any more pain although he does feel rather dizzy when he finally arrives at the doors to his room.

He requests a few hours of solitude, some time to help him relax. He will need to be in his best state tonight, after all. He throws himself onto his bed, and even though he feels tired he can’t find it in himself to try and sleep. He sighs and rocks his head back, his eyes fixating on the ceiling. Though it is only a moment before he feels something eerily tug at his vision, hears a distant voice telling him to look at something else. Both intrigued and confused, the prince looks to his side, his eyes immediately falling on a small table on the far side of his room.

Lelouch’s eyebrows furrow. He is certain this table has been in his room for as long as he can remember, and doesn’t know why it is grasping his attention all of a sudden. He gets up and makes his way to the table, and his confusion slowly breaks away when reality dawns upon him.

A vase was placed on the very centre of the table. It was an assorted mix of flowers when it had first arrived but Lelouch arranged it so that only the white and yellow flowers stood out, the rest insignificant and unworthy of attention, barely visible at all. Without much thinking he sifts through the flowers, looking for—surprised he forgot about—a small red rose.

He had rendered the rose the most unworthy flower of all. He had never been fond of roses and perhaps it was the persistent association with romance that was to take the blame. Lelouch had pondered on throwing the flower away but in the end decided to bury it between the larger flowers, putting it out of sight and consequently out of mind.

He never believed that there would come a time where he would be so ardently, so inexplicably drawn to the rose. The prince chuckles despite himself and lightly shakes his head. This was but one of many ways his love for Shirley had turned his world around. It is guaranteed that the prince is a man of his own mind but being controlled by something so mesmerising he couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

He brings the rose up to his lips.

_Please, Shirley._

_Please be the one._

_Please be the one that both bound me and set me free._

~

Shirley was bracing herself for the very terse trial of walking into the palace. She tries to ignore the shivers on her arms and the knots tightening in her gut, her efforts rendered useless when that same jolt captivates her body, nearly stopping her in her tracks. She wills her shaky legs to move forward as she wonders if there will ever come a time where she would undergo this encounter without having forebodings about it.

Most of all she dreaded having to walk in the circle of guards. She is aware that it is merely their job with all visitors. Nonetheless it throws her nerves into jitters, makes her feel like invisible icicles are prickling her skin. She could feel the apprehension washing over her before the guards even approached her.

Only to not have any guard approach.

There were but two guards, standing on either side of her. And in front of her there was only one person.

Shirley’s heart threatens to burst out of her chest.

Prince Lelouch himself was standing before her.

It was only when her expectations were defied that the ginger realises she had expectations in the first place. What was she expecting, anyway? Lelouch to be waiting in one of the gardens? To unexpectedly run into her as she is walking with the guards like last time?

Shirley couldn’t even begin to comprehend the situation before Lelouch started talking.

“Good evening, Miss Fenette,” he said, his tone formal but nonetheless enchanting. He was standing a small distance from Shirley, making the latter just barely able to see the glint of his violet eyes.

Shirley was silent for a moment, still trying to gain any leverage on reality before she remembered she has to reply. “Y-Your Highness,” she says, thankful her voice isn’t as shaky as she expected it would be. She knows she should have said more but she can’t, for everything she is worth, find other words to push out of her mouth.

The violet-eyed prince extended his arm to his side, silently beckoning Shirley to walk with him in that direction. Shirley is again hit with realisation that she had been expecting Lelouch to maybe offer her his hand like last time, to do anything that brought them closer together, seal the disheartening gap between them.

But here they were, walking together, an arm’s length away from each other. At first Shirley assumed Lelouch would be keeping the formal act up until the guards were out of range but she could feel something in her chest coil tightly when they continued walking in silence even when they were by themselves.

Shirley decides to busy her spinning mind by trying to figure out where they were going. It was a challenge indeed, for all corridors of the palace bore great similarity. She can’t tell if this was the way she’d taken when she was going to the garden where Nunnally had been waiting. She also can’t tell if this was the way to Lelouch’s chambers, because the way there was nothing but a blur as Lelouch had dragged her through it at maximum speed.

The prince’s voice shakes Shirley from her thoughts. “You look lovely tonight,” he says. His tone has shed some of the formal manner but he was still looking ahead.

Shirley feels her cheeks grow a bit, just a bit warm. Her outfit was chosen in haste, the prior hours all thoughts spinning and heart racing. She ended up going for a lime-green dress, with a jacket a few shades lighter.

Despite the overwhelming emotions she managed to mutter a reply. “So as you, Your Highness.”

Lelouch stops walking.

Feeling a wave of nervousness crash on her, Shirley does the same. She was a couple of paces behind Lelouch, and being unable to see his face prevented her from figuring out just what was on the prince’s mind. Shirley was about to speak up when she noticed Lelouch’s hands flexing by his side, opening and closing before forming into a tight fist.

All of a sudden he turned around and grasped Shirley’s shoulders, tightly. The act was so abrupt that Shirley could just barely stifle a yelp.

“I need to know,” Lelouch gaps. “I wasn’t planning on asking this soon but _I need to know_.”

Already Shirley knows full well what Lelouch is going to ask.

It seems he knew that she knew the question, but he asked anyway. “Did you cough up any petals in the last three days?”

The words were whirling in Shirley’s mind but none could come out of her mouth.

“Did you?” Lelouch asks again, growing more frantic by the second. He takes a deep breath before saying, “I didn’t.”

Shirley feels the floor tilt beneath her.

“I didn’t cough up any petals, Shirley. The doctor even confirmed I was slowly healing.” His eyes were locked with Shirley’s, and his words were spoken with steel certainty, like he feared Shirley would doubt him. “I have been slowly healing since that day. I knew it from the start but now it’s confirmed and I need to know, Shirley. Did you cough up any flower petals?”

When Shirley stays quiet Lelouch tightens his already tight grip on her shoulders.

She inhales. Exhales. Inhales again. Lelouch was coming more and more unhinged with every sound she made.

Shirley’s mind was a mess. She couldn’t begin to fathom the situation and even though her lips were sealed her heart was screaming the words:

_I didn’t. I didn’t. I didn’t—_

_I’ve been healing since that day, too._

It seemed so loud in her head, as if she was actually screaming the words yet she couldn’t even part her lips. Suffice to say, it is totally unintended of her to make Lelouch misinterpret her silence.

His violet orbs widen. The quiver in his lips is mirrored in the shaking of his hands at Shirley’s shoulders. “Please, Shirley,” he says, his voice peculiarly low, tainted with something akin to defeat. “Please tell me it’s you. It-it _has_ to be you. Shirley, _please_.”

It was the desperation that drowned over Lelouch that finally made Shirley get shaken back into her senses. The look of anguish was definitely not an ornament on the prince’s handsome face, and the mere sight of it was enough to make Shirley’s lips part and the words tumble out of her mouth.

“I didn’t.” Shirley’s words are barely coherent, folded within a gasp. “I didn’t. Not a single time.”

Lelouch’s hands let go of her shoulders, and she snatches them quickly before they can fall back to his side. She holds them tightly, returning the certainty Lelouch had been giving her earlier.

“It is me,” Shirley affirms, her voice louder and surer, and, dare she say, sweeter. “It is me, Lelouch.”

It was hard to believe this one moment passed right after that one. One moment Lelouch was standing, still as a statue, showing no reaction whatsoever to Shirley’s words. The next he threw his body on hers, holding her tightly, as if she were going to disintegrate if he didn’t keep her being together.

Then Shirley takes her own turn at playing statue.

Sure the prince had embraced her before, but this...

This was different.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

The sensation was akin to standing in a wide, open field. Feeling gentle rays of sunlight warm her skin. Feeling soft grass under her feet. Inhaling the sweet scent of blooming flowers. Taking in one fresh breath after another, feeling her body grow more and more enraptured.

It was merriment Shirley would never even begin to imagine.

The overwhelming emotions control her arms, and they slowly wrap around Lelouch in return. Feeling the numbness escape her body, she begins to register Lelouch’s own emotions. Even though he held Shirley tightly, his breath trembled. It was easy to hear in this proximity. Shirley could also clearly feel relief flooding through Lelouch, slowly easing his breathing and calming his body.

They hold each other for what feels like an eternity, and when Lelouch does pull away, the entire world feels different, from the floor they are standing on to the air entering their lungs. Their emeralds and amethysts lock together, and it feels like nothing, nothing exists other than the bond between them.

~

The chilly night finds Lelouch and Shirley walking in one of the palace’s gardens, side by side, fingers intertwined. The air feels eerily different but it somehow made them content. The moonlight and cascade of stars added to the already overwhelming beauty of their surroundings, but Lelouch couldn’t keep his eyes off Shirley. He rendered her more beautiful than any starry sky or numerous colourful flowers.

“So, Shirley,” Lelouch begins. The walk out of the palace and so far into the garden had been quiet but was nevertheless enjoyable. Still Lelouch deems it important to converse. “You were at the royal ball?” He opens the topic as it is easily the first to come to his mind. He can’t help but recall that wonderful time he fell in love after a mere glance at Shirley. Even though the experience bore the pain of the onset of the Hanahaki Disease, Lelouch was inexplicably fond of it.

A small, nervous laugh escapes Shirley. Her hand moves to the back of her head, sifting in her hair. It was like the topic evoked a displeasure in her, and Lelouch assumes it was not very pleasing indeed, considering a commoner like Shirley isn’t accustomed to the way of the upper class.

“I was at the ball,” Shirley says. “It really was as luxurious as everyone claims, but I couldn’t find a reason to enjoy it. Something about not fitting in undoes it for me.”

Lelouch tried to imagine things from Shirley’s perspective. He might not be a commoner but he fully empathises with Shirley. He, undoubtedly, would also feel at least a bit uncomfortable when surrounded by people from an entirely different class than he is familiar with.

“If it’s not a pleasurable experience, why would you attend?” Lelouch asks, a bit curious about Shirley’s intentions.

“Oh, it’s Milly. She always forces me into these kinds of things; experiences she is aware would disconcert me but believes would be great fun. She always says that nothing will go wrong if we stay together and, well... I just feel like it’s her own quirky way of expressing love.” Shirley smiles.

Lelouch finds her smile reflected on his own lips. “Quirky indeed. That’s a perfect way to describe Milly. She seems to believe that life is but a carnival, that there is a parade in spite of any conditions.”

“That’s really her. I know Milly has affiliations with the royal family, but I wasn’t aware you two are so close.”

“We’re as close as can be.” Lelouch lightly shrugs. “My friendships are bound by strict rules. I can rarely invite commoners over, and I’m not allowed to step foot out the palace. I’ve asked many times to visit the academy you and Milly attend, Ashford Academy, but all my requests get denied.”

“I see,” Shirley says, sounding upset. For a small moment the sadness shows on her face, but she quickly shakes it off and that bright smile returns. “Well, just know that Ashford will welcome you at any time.”

Lelouch was momentarily at a loss of words. The realistic approach to matters here in the royal family was so customary that Shirley’s optimistic energy was strange to Lelouch. Though a part of him found it very endearing, mostly because he adored the sight of Shirley’s smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Lelouch smiles. It was surprising that the invisible promise of him going to Ashford actually made him happier. He doesn’t dare to hope it would be a reality. Though he still asks, “What’s it like at Ashford?”

“A never-ending carnival, of course, with Milly being the president of the student council,” Shirley says.

Lelouch tries to imagine Milly’s boisterous personality being taken out on an entire school campus, with a multitude of students being victims to her carnivals. He takes longer than a moment to find words. “That sounds... riveting.”

“If by riveting you mean absolutely frightening then yes, very riveting.”

Despite having never visited Ashford and witnessing whatever shenanigans Milly plots, Lelouch couldn’t disagree.

“It’s safe to say Milly’s exuberance can be a handful to you and everyone at Ashford,” Lelouch tightens his grip on Shirley’s hand before continuing, “but I’m glad she got you to the royal ball.” He deemed it somewhat adverse to take happiness in what was an unpleasant experience for Shirley, but he guessed that could be overlooked when they were together now, merriment overflowing them.

“I didn’t think I would say this but I’m glad as well.” Shirley is quiet for a moment. She stops walking and turns to Lelouch. Her cheeks are tinted a very, very light shade of pink. “Was it at royal ball? When you realised you...”

 _Were in love with me?_ Shirley doesn’t continue the question but Lelouch perfectly gets it. He doesn’t understand, though, why Shirley would lack the confidence to say the words, especially after everything the two of them have been through together.

“It was at the royal ball,” Lelouch affirms.

Confusion splashes over Shirley. “But...” she seems to be searching for words. “How could I have won your heart over that night?” She lightly shakes her head, like she was saying something too illogical to be.

“All it had taken was a glance,” Lelouch says without one bit of hesitation.

“But I... I was a mess that night! I was tense and no one would come near me and—my hair was in shambles some time into the evening and—”

“Shirley,” Lelouch quiets the agitated ginger, both by a soft voice and a hand that moves to her face, gently cupping her cheek. “In all the years of my princely life I have been introduced to nothing but the finest of women, princesses and nobles from all over this land and several others. They were crafted with utmost perfection. The styling of their hair and clothes was second to none. Every inch of them was striking, enough to make just any man in the world get swept off his feet. And yet...” Lelouch’s thumb moves over the bridge of Shirley’s nose, feeling her cheekbones, the craft of her face as those bright emeralds locked with his own eyes. “You are the only one who managed to capture my heart.”

The only sound Shirley made was the intake of a shaky breath.

“It didn’t matter that your dress wasn’t lined with jewels or that your hair fell in some places,” Lelouch continues. “Because when I laid my eyes on you, the only thing that grasped my attention was the compassion you were radiating. I could see with my own eyes that you had a kind, pure soul. And it was enough to envelope me in thorny vines and bloody petals.”

The taint on Shirley’s cheeks deepens into red. She stares at Lelouch in shock for so, so long. It was just when Lelouch thought she wouldn’t be getting out of this state anytime soon that that unbelievably bright smile captivated her lips. Lelouch found it uncanny how Shirley could only go so long without that smile on her lips. It was like she simply couldn’t keep the smile at bay, like the world would implode if she were to go more than one or two moments without smiling. It makes Lelouch’s heart skitter.

The words finally come to Shirley. “I never thought... No, I never dared to think, that this would be a reality.” She shakes her head, looking close to tears.

“It is a reality, Shirley,” Lelouch says, before leaning down and kissing her.

And that smile was truly as soft as it looked.

It felt like Lelouch was eating soft candy, the sweetness flooding his mouth. Shirley was frozen for a moment, before starting to kiss back. Even with all its passion the kiss was short, but in Lelouch’s head it felt like a lifetime. And, if he could, he would spend a lifetime kissing Shirley.

They slowly break apart and lock their eyes together. Lelouch was immersed in that same beautiful yet foreign feeling. The feeling he would never, no matter how much he tried, be able to figure out. While the unfamiliarity was unfavourable, Lelouch didn’t render it a necessity to figure out this feeling. Despite everything he enjoyed it with every inch of his being.

Then a cascade of chuckles escapes him and Shirley, mixing together and the sound resembles an angelic symphony. Lelouch loops an arm around her waist as they both continue their walk in the moonlight.

They walk for a while, engulfed in a strangely comfortable silence. It was comfortable because even though their mouths were shut their hearts were singing. The only addition of sounds was the splashing of water when they had neared a fountain. It was then that Lelouch decided to put an end to the silence.

“You know, Shirley,” he says, and the ginger turns to him. “This might surprise you but I’m not that fond of royal balls myself.”

Shirley gapes at him. “Really?”

“It’s true. The way of the upper class when it comes to partying is not really my idea of an enjoyable time.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words from someone who is a member of the upper class.”

Lelouch laughs. “I just find these parties meaningless, only one more way of the royal family to show off its wealth. They try to find any valid reason to throw a party, and will still throw one even if there isn’t a reason; they party for the sake of partying. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had thrown a party to celebrate my falling in love if weren’t for the accompanying of a fatal disease.”

Shirley says, “I don’t think that’s far from possible either.”

“However,” Lelouch says, louder this time, as he takes a couple of steps in front of Shirley and turns his body towards her, not letting go of her hand. “You managed to make the previous royal ball a really special day for me.” He smiles at her. This giddy attitude was nowhere near close to his usual self. It felt so unlike him but he was strangely finding comfort in it.

“You can say it was a special day for the two of us.” Shirley smiles back. “Although I find it weird such is the case, since we hadn’t even approached each other.” She pauses in thought for a moment. “I don’t think I saw you at all, actually...”

“I do have a habit of distancing myself from everyone at parties. People just hop on any opportunity to get all in my business and it can be really bothersome, to a greater extent the times someone tries to get romantic with me.” Lelouch just barely holds back a shudder.

“You do have a lot of admirers, Lelouch.”

The prince shrugs. “I could never return any of the appeal they offer. I’ve never been interested in untrue love. I forced the rule upon myself to avoid encounters to spare both myself and the other party from any undesirable course.” Lelouch pauses, once again remembering the way Shirley made him feel when she had caught his attention. “Although I wouldn’t have minded if you had approached me,” he says carefully, testing the words as they tumble past his lips. It’s true the prince is never at his best during balls and parties. Could an encounter with Shirley at the time have been the same as now?

“I am not so sure I would have approached you had I spotted you. Feelings aside, I am not keen on approaching royalties, and it’s the same the other way around. I just don’t know how to hold a conversation with them, and I have a constant fear of being asked for a dance. Am I even allowed to reject that?”

“Of course you’re allowed to. The person might get offended but that has nothing to do with you not wanting to dance and everything with their bone-headed egotism. They have no right to force you into it, social differences be damned.” Lelouch is quiet for a moment. “But why would you be afraid of being asked for a dance?”

A rosy taint adorns Shirley’s cheeks. “Oh I... I don’t know how to dance...” she says in a low voice.

“That’s not something you should be ashamed of. It makes no less than perfect sense to not know something you weren’t taught.” Lelouch tips his head, a new thought forming in his mind. “Although if you want to completely dispel your fear...” The words leave his mouth no later than he pulls Shirley closer.

Shirley tips her head up, her green orbs widened.

“The formal dances are actually a lot easier that they look like,” Lelouch says, putting a hand on Shirley’s waist and pulling her even closer. He then takes her other hand in his, and lifts it in the air. He was barely done with fixing their postures before Shirley spoke up.

“But Lelouch I...” She tries to shrink away but Lelouch tightens his grip on her hand and waist. He hoped the action was as reassuring as he viewed. “I _really_ have no experience with dance.”

“You’re about to.” Lelouch’s warm assurance is better implied in his voice.

“But I can’t—”

“Just look into my eyes,” he interrupts, his hand moving from her waist up to her face, gently tilting it up just a bit to connect their eyes, before going back. “I’ll guide you.”

Shirley doesn’t voice further disagreement but Lelouch waits a few extra moments before beginning.

Despite how rarely he dances, the prince’s movements are flawless, at the responsibility of the extensive royal training. He takes the perfectly measured steps forward and backward, to this side and that side, with the smoothness of water running down a pebble river. His moves were, however, rendered disharmonised due to Shirley’s ones, which were shaky and distorted. For the sake of easing the teaching process Lelouch started off with a pace much slower than typical, and gradually increased it as they went.

Shirley’s greens are locked with Lelouch’s violets. At first she would cast nervous glances at her feet every other second, but it appears that Lelouch’s command would ring in her mind, for she always lifted her eyes again to look at the boy’s own. Lelouch could feel her unease slowly crumble away with every step they took together. Even though the dance was simple enough, Lelouch could still tell she was a quick learner.

It isn’t long before Shirley found a grip on consistency, and her moves become more even and smooth. She looks down to her feet, which are moving in perfect harmonisation with Lelouch’s. Then she looks up again, astonishment painted on her face. Lelouch lightly chuckles.

“See? You’re perfect at this,” Lelouch says, just barely louder than a whisper.

Shirley shakes her head in amazement. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m actually dancing.” She lightly laughs.

Lelouch considers her words for an extra moment. “I’ve come to take it that it’s the things we can’t believe would ever happen that turn into reality.” He takes in a chilly breath when Shirley’s hand moves from his shoulder to his neck, fiddling with the long onyx locks at his nape. The gesture was unfamiliar and overwhelming, making something spark in his chest.

It isn’t long before Lelouch finds himself leaning closer and closer, pressing his lips against Shirley’s. The kiss is tender and soothing, like the evening breeze.

Ever one to figure things out to the smallest of details, Lelouch finds himself wondering how long he’s waited for this, and just what _this_ is. He knows for a fact he wasn’t waiting for the springing of this weird sensation in his chest, for the rushing of his blood, for the surfacing of this mysterious, underlying desire. He never knew any of these existed in the first place. But what he is sure of is that his whole world had lacked _colour_ before he met Shirley, that most things around him never harboured so much meaning. From the air entering his lungs and soothing his body to the blood-red petals of roses, everything around Lelouch changed and in a magnificent way he never dared to dream of.

Lelouch was introduced to a new world. A world brighter than he’d ever known. And now that he’s seen it, he wants to never let go of it. He wants to never let go of Shirley.

He breaks the dancing stance to wrap his arms around the ginger-haired girl. His arms are tired from the dancing but he nonetheless finds immense force to hold her with. He h0lds her tightly, lest everything break away and this reveals to be something other than reality. It was only the press of their lips and bodies against each other that kept affirming Lelouch that this is real. Shirley puts her hands on either side of Lelouch’s face, and the prince suspected she needed some affirmation herself. Her grip wasn’t particularly soft, either.

 _This is real_ , they kept telling each other, even though they weren’t talking. The way they held each other conveyed the words more than saying them would.

_This is real._

_You are real, what we have is real—_

_Our love is the realest of all._

~

The night sky had turned the darkest shade of blue by the time Lelouch and Shirley broke apart and, after walking just a bit more, decided on taking a pause (and not just because Lelouch was weary from all the walking.) The late, tranquil hours of the night found the two of them standing on a bridge over a small lake, flowers wrapped around every corner surrounding them. The still air was rather enticing, it made Lelouch almost not want to break the silence.

Fortunately, Shirley spoke up first. Unfortunately, her voice had some unease to it.

“I have to say it, Lelouch.” She pauses for a moment, lightly shrugging and shaking her head, like she couldn’t find words to say. “This is by far the most spectacular night of my life.”

It was nice to hear the words, yet Lelouch was concerned for Shirley’s unease. “I can definitely agree,” he says.

Shirley goes quiet again, but it was the faltering of her smile that crumbled Lelouch’s composure and made his concern soar. He covers Shirley’s hand with his own, but the action only did so much to calm them both.

“See, Lelouch... This night is fantastic, but... What about when the night is over?” She shakes her head again, and for a moment it looked like she was about to turn to Lelouch but couldn’t face him.

Lelouch’s hand flies to Shirley’s chin, gently moving it so their faces can meet. The prince feels something coil tightly in his chest when he sees the melancholy painted on her face. “What do you mean when the night is over?” he asks, and is shocked at how low his voice is.

“I mean what’s going to happen when we both lay in our beds tonight?” Shirley steps away from Lelouch but doesn’t look away. “What will happen tomorrow morning? Tomorrow night? The next few days? The next week and month and— _Us_? What is going to happen to _us_?”

“Us?” Lelouch echoes the word. The disbelief is like an invisible hand wrapping around his throat. “We’re _together_ now, Shirley. We’re together and we’re in love and—”

“We’re together _now_ , Lelouch.” The emerald-eyed girl shakes her head again. “ _Now_ when there’s nothing that can keep us apart. But what about when we step back into our separate worlds and all these obstacles throw themselves in our way?”

“We’ll _get rid_ of them,” Lelouch replies without missing a beat. He’s been telling himself the same words every moment. There were many things that told him what he has with Shirley is impossible to keep, and Lelouch easily dismissed them with sheer determination. But when it was Shirley herself saying that this is impossible, Lelouch couldn’t be so determined anymore.

“So you’ll invite me over to the palace every now and then. You’ll hope your request won’t be denied. You’ll beg to visit Ashford academy once more, only to have that rejected as well. I’ll be invited to every other party and royal ball. We’ll write letters to each other and hope our communication would be allowed in the first place.” A small, barely audible laugh escapes Shirley. “Is that the kind of relationship you want, Lelouch?”

The words stung Lelouch like thorny vines digging into his skin. It hurt because every single word was nothing but true.

Lelouch shakes his head, as if he were telling his own thoughts to stop stating the truth. “I don’t care what kind of relationship it is as long as it’s with _you_.”

“But that’s—”

“Because _I love you_ , Shirley.” The words jump out of Lelouch’s mouth with extreme force. The raven-haired boy feels his heart drop when he sees Shirley’s eyes glistening.

“I love you too. I love you so much, so much that it’s the reason I’m doing this.” It was when she finished those words that a small tear trickled past her eye.

“No...” Lelouch can barely find his voice in the midst of the lumping in his throat. “No...” he repeats. He can’t seem to find any other word to say.

“Yes, Lelouch.” More tears stream out of Shirley’s eyes. “I can’t put you through this.”

“But Shirley...” Lelouch was truly at a loss for words.

He couldn’t find any counterarguments, simply because there were none. Everything Shirley said made perfect sense, and it didn’t take a big brain to have that much figured out. Still, Lelouch couldn’t accept this.

Not after...

Not after everything he went through. After the painful attacks and bloody petals.

“I can’t accept this!” Lelouch finds himself yelling the words before he was able to even think about doing so.

Despite Lelouch’s growing agitation, Shirley was as placid as ever. There was even a small smile on her lips. Lelouch just didn’t know how she could find it in herself to smile. Was her purity really that powerful?

“Believe me, Lelouch,” Shirley says as she cups Lelouch’s face in her hands. Lelouch immediately covers the hands with his own. The action was out of love, out of fear, out of overflowing emotions. “This night was just _magical_. It was everything I ever wished for and even more. It was things I didn’t dare to wish for, even. It was a dream come true. A dream I never, not in a million years, thought would ever be true. But that’s the thing with dreams: even in all their beauty they end at some point.”

At the last words, Shirley drops her hands.

And Lelouch feels something deep inside him curl up and die.

He tries and tries and tries, but he just can’t find any flaw to Shirley’s words. He was desperate, so desperate, but all he had heard was just part of the harsh, unchangeable reality.

He only stares, his body frozen from head to toe. Even his brain felt frozen. Yet in all the numbness that captivated the prince, he could feel something small tingling his cheek. It was a weird feeling, and mostly so because he knows he felt it before but can’t seem to figure out what it is. He rakes his mind till he remembers he felt it in the midst of those burning coughs and climbing petals.

It was a tear running down his cheek.

Lelouch was crying.

The Dark Prince, infamous for donning a mask and cloaking himself with a cold attitude, known for harbouring immunity to feelings...

...was crying.

Was standing still as a statue, vulnerable to the simple thing that is reality.

“I just wish there was a way to forget,” Shirley sobs. “To make it easier to move on... To make it— to make it hurt _less_.”

Lelouch inhales a chilly, shaky breath.

He is surprised when the words leave his mouth, because he still can’t find his voice. He feels like his mouth is full of sand.

“There is a way.”

Shirley’s head jerks to face Lelouch, her green orbs wide.

“There is a way,” Lelouch repeats, feeling his mouth become less numb. “We can...” He tries to shut his mouth. He tries to keep the words inside because he shouldn’t say them.

He shouldn’t be looking into any option other than indulging in the love he has with Shirley.

He shouldn’t give up.

“We can go for the surgery.” _He shouldn’t give up!_

The prince felt like a puppet, being forced into actions he didn’t want to commit. If it was his mind controlling him, then what was screaming at him to do the complete opposite of what he is doing?

Could it be that his heart is doing all the screaming? Was it even possible for it to scream like that? So loudly, so fiercely, so _desperately_...

“The surgery?” Shirley gapes at the boy in front of her. “That can’t be. Our feelings have been returned.”

“It’s possible.” Lelouch can barely hear himself over the rushing of his blood in his ears. “I asked my doctor about it. The surgery can be done even after the feelings are returned, before the flower can fully disappear.”

The silence thickens the air around them. Reality was beginning to fully dawn on them.

Shirley smiles again, only now it doesn’t seem as melancholic. “I’m glad,” she says, her voice barely audible, “that now it won’t hurt so much.”

Lelouch breathes again, trying to dispel his numbness.

Was this really what they have come to?

Was it really just a small while ago that they were kissing and laughing without a care in the world?

Was it really impossible for them to chase away the obstacles between them?

After all that’s happened. After being held in the harsh hands of the Hanahaki Disease. After every strange encounter and unanswered question. Everything that has happened since the day the flower first bloomed.

Was it all just for a mere few hours of being in their own little world?

Be it a few hours or a few lifetimes, Lelouch will cherish every single second he spends with Shirley.

The future of their love might be taken away, but _this_ won’t be.

Lelouch feels the force coursing in his blood as he pulls Shirley into his arms and crashes their lips together. All the times he’d held her earlier were nothing compared to this. He was holding her so, so tightly, he could feel pain in his muscles. He could also feel Shirley’s arms wrapping around his neck, with just as great force. Their kiss isn’t a sweet gentle exchange like earlier, either. This kiss is fervent, desperate, like they wanted the memory of each other’s lips to be eternally engraved into their minds.

After a while Shirley puts a hand to Lelouch’s chest and slowly pushes him away. He was aware that the kissing was significantly cutting off their breathing but he didn’t think it could be to the extent that he would be pushed away.

Shirley takes a moment to regain her breathing. “You know, Lelouch...” she lightly pants. “I never believed that the surgery could completely make someone forget their feelings. So they remove the flower, but it is really more than just ending the disease? Is it really possible to remove the feelings the person has buried deep in their heart?”

“Shirley...”

“That won’t happen to me, Lelouch. Nothing will make me forget you. Not this surgery or any other one or— or anything. Nothing will make me forget this. A part of me will always remember you, Lelouch.”

Lelouch seals their lips together again. It was only a few moments that their mouths were apart but it felt like eons. He wants to cherish every last moment. Who knows if he will feel this sensation in his chest ever again.

It was the hardest period of time in the prince’s life. The random attacks, the fatigues. The screams that flew out of his mouth in the middle of the night. The fact that he was forced to stay away from his beloved sister. The agitation in how he could collapse at any given moment. The knowing that he was slowly dying, slowly being choked to death.

It was pain unlike he had ever known. And at the end this long, arduous path he struggled through was just a few hours to spend with Shirley.

It was uncanny, but perhaps what was most uncanny was that he’d go through it all again.

Again and again and again.

If it was all for a few hours, a few moments, even, he’d do it again.

The kiss is broken once more when Lelouch leans away. “I don’t regret it,” he says. Shirley stares at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“I don’t regret it at all.” He feels many tears run down the sides of his face. He kisses Shirley again, and holds her with all might he has left in his being.

“I don’t regret falling in love with you.”

~

Lelouch is standing in an open field, the serene sky stretched above him and the green ground under him. His body feels eerily numb, but his head is spinning round and round. Not only does he want answers, but he also wants to know what questions he is asking in the first place. It was like trying to recognise a melody without hearing the melody in the first place.

Despite the utterly confusing state of mind he is in, Lelouch’s body is unbelievably calm. He feels... freshened. It’s like his body had never experienced anything unpleasant in a long, long time. Tranquillity is running through his veins. The contradiction between the state of his mind and that of his body is indeed exasperating, nonetheless Lelouch can’t dispel the calmness in him.

The prince slowly scans his surroundings. Disconcert tries to plant itself in him upon seeing the endless plain rolling around him, as far as his eyes can see and maybe even further. He tries focusing his senses but they are much too enervated to help him figure out where he is. In these wisps of unease a part of Lelouch decides that the situation he is in is not as bad as he perceives it to be. In any case he can stay indulged in this serenity. It feels like eons since he’s last been relaxed, as if he had been trapped in a prison of languor this whole time. He can just rejoice in rejuvenating, and it seems like he has plenty of time to do that.

But it is just when he takes the decision that Lelouch hears a rustle behind him.

Abruptly, Lelouch’s body is successful at dispelling a bit of the calmness. At the speed of light he turns around, searching for the source of sound. Again, all his eyes can see is the plain ground stretching in front of him, but when he focuses his vision on the farthest point, he notices something.

Or rather, someone.

Lelouch immediately takes to a chase, before even trying to guess who it is he is chasing. Something deep inside him screams that who he is chasing shouldn’t be this far from him, should be right by his side. Lelouch trusts this gut feeling, despite not knowing where it came from.

He runs and runs, and doubts his distance perception is sound because the person seems to be going further away with every step he takes. “Wait!” he shouts.

The person turns to Lelouch and again his perception fails him, as he can just barely make out the person in front of him. He couldn’t see any features to help him with identification. He continues running nonetheless. He doesn’t know if he imagined it, but the person seemed to be running towards him as well.

But, even as the two desperately ran towards each other, the distance between them didn’t decrease. It was as if with every step they took forward the world took one backward. Lelouch’s heartbeat escalates as something in the back of his mind screams that this can’t be allowed. He lets the determination take over him as he breaks into an even faster sprint.

If he has to run with the world himself holding him back, then so be it.

Maybe his willpower was playing tricks on him, but as Lelouch let his feet slam onto the ground one after another, he seemed to be getting closer and closer. It seems to be an effort from the other person as well. It was clear Lelouch’s desperation was mutual, whoever this person may be.

The distance growing shorter did nothing to calm Lelouch’s erratic heartbeat. He was convinced he won’t simmer down in the slightest until he was right next to this person. At this distance he could barely make out the person’s face. The features remained a blur in his mind and it strengthened his resolve somehow. He could, however, see long hair flying as the person ran. Was she a girl? As Lelouch processes the information he takes note of the dress she dons, and he was slowly coming to recognise her.

The girl shoots a hand forward. Without thinking Lelouch does the same. They were close now, almost within reach of each other. All they had to do was­­—

The ground fiercely shakes and Lelouch falls with a small grunt. Before he can even find leverage he extends his arm in reach for the girl. Again, she does the same, and he could almost feel their fingertips brushing.

Then something wraps around Lelouch’s limbs, yanking him backwards. “No!” he shouts as he tries to wrestle his way forward again. His muscles scream in pain as something pierces his skin. He hisses and feels his heart climb up to his throat when he glances at his arms.

He thought the thorny vines were gone. Thought that he would never experience this pain again. Yet here they were, digging into his skin and making blood pour out. But it was more than just that; previously, the vines only kept him in place, but now they were pulling him away.

Once he can see through the blur in his vision Lelouch sees the vines wrap around the girl, too. She, too, was trying to break free but is as successful as Lelouch is. Cries of protest fly out of Lelouch’s mouth as he tries and tries to fight but his efforts are futile, and with a fierce tug he is yanked away from the girl.

More cries and screams exit his mouth but a choking silence captivates him when he sees the girl fade out of sight. Before he could take a breath his surroundings shattered. The sun and sky were no more, and instead of the open field Lelouch finds himself in an abyss of darkness he is familiar with.

His first impulse is to cry again, but his moth refuses to make a single sound. His whole body shakes in agitation and he examines the unending darkness around him. Dread fills him up to the very corners of his chest.

He can’t be back here.

How can it be that all this changed in a span of a few moments?

Lelouch refuses to accept this.

The violet-eyed boy shuts his eyes as he inhales a shaky breath.

When he opens them again, he will see light. He will be out of this abyss. He will not take otherwise. He will not lose hope.

The light will be there when he opens his eyes.

~

Lelouch’s mind awakens a mere moment before his body does. As short-lived as it was, panic captivated the boy. His eyelids feel extremely heavy, and he momentarily considers slipping back into unconsciousness. Come to think of it, there is a heavy sensation in his whole body, not only his eyes. His panic subsides and makes room for resolve.

He knows that light will greet him when he opens his eyes. He won’t be in that dark abyss. That is guaranteed.

There will be light.

It takes tremendous effort, but the prince parts his eyelids, and rays of light fall upon his orbs. A small gasp escapes his mouth, and immediately pain splashes over him, as small as the action was. He tries to sit up but before he could move an inch, something keeps him in place. He gasps again at the light weight at his chest and turns to look to his side. Through his blurry vision, he can barely become conscious of the person by his side, his eyes immediately taking in golden hair and sapphire orbs.

“Clovis?” Before even giving himself a chance to be confused, Lelouch tries to get up again.

But Clovis’s hand presses with just a little extra weight as he says, “Don’t. Just stay down, please. You haven’t fully recovered yet.” Maybe Lelouch’s hearing was as feeble as his sight, but Clovis’s words were soft-spoken, laden with concern.

This time the violet-eyed boy allows himself to be confused. He was about to ask several questions, mostly about what it is that he hasn’t recovered from, but first he takes a moment to ground himself. He shuts his eyes, and for some reason his lungs sting when he tries to take a deep breath. He feels the throbbing in his head slowly subside, and opens his eyes again.

His vision is clearer now, though all there was to stare at was a pure white ceiling. Even as he turns his head, there wasn’t much to look at. The only attraction to his attention in this entire plain room was his siblings sitting by his side.

He tries raking his brains for any recalling of what happened to him but he finds nothing. Nonetheless he can guarantee that it was lamentable; it was obvious from the melancholic glances his siblings gave him.

“How are you feeling?” A voice calls and again Lelouch questions the strength of his hearing; the voice was very low. Said boy turns to greet a very sad Euphemia. Joyful, high-spirited Euphemia, was now staring at her brother with heartbreak painted on her face.

Lelouch tries to guess just what in the world would be grievous enough to have his sister’s bright, persistent smile vanish. Unable to look at the dejected Euphemia, his eyes will themselves to look away. He tries to glance at any of his other siblings instead, but no one seems to harbour any sentiment other than sadness. Even Nunnally, who was sleeping on a small couch opposite Lelouch, seemed upset.

Said boy fixes his eyes on the ceiling again, and wills his heart to stop jumping around his chest. Taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts, Lelouch immediately begins coughing. There was a collective jump from his brothers and sisters. Clovis gently holds Lelouch and helps his recline his back, a hand slowly moving up and down the violet-eyed boy’s back in soothing manner. To his other side, Schneizel offers a glass of water, which Lelouch, feeling a fire rage in his throat, gladly accepts. He was only able to take a couple of gulps before the pain in his throat became too much to tolerate. Light pants escape his mouth when the glass moves away from his lips.

Concern lingers among them. Several moments pass before Euphemia, Schneizel and Cornelia are able to take their seats again. Clovis, on the other hand, keeps standing next to Lelouch, a hand supporting Lelouch’s back.

“The doctor said that your wounds will take some time to fully heal,” the third prince says, “but the pain should be going away soon.”

Wounds. Heal. Recover. Lelouch couldn’t understand those words, despite knowing exactly what they mean. He turns to look at Clovis, who stares back at him in a peculiar mix of both concern and assurance. Weirdly, a small memory sparks in Lelouch’s mind; this was the exact look Clovis had given him when...

Lelouch feels his heart and guts cement inside his body.

He had gone for the surgery.

Puzzle pieces fell into place, filling the empty void of Lelouch’s mind. His siblings dispelling his fear, despite being fearful themselves. Nunnally crying by his side, begging him to change his mind. The doctors asking him time and again if he was completely sure of his decision.

But why can’t Lelouch remember what _he_ felt like? Why were all the memories coming back to him concerning other people? As much as he wants to figure out just what he felt before going to the surgery, Lelouch doubts he had been feeling anything in the first place. The flashbacks in his mind feel like they are from an inanimate object’s point of view; there was no mental or emotional correlation whatsoever.

He felt like he was sinking in the bottom of the ocean; surrounded by so much, yet feeling so little. He knows, knows that there’s something he hasn’t forgotten, something still in his mind, even if it is buried deep down. It is undoubtedly there.

Lelouch isn’t aware he straightened his back until he feels Clovis drop his hands.

“You really don’t... remember anything?” his brother’s words are torn between a question and a statement.

But that can’t be the case. Lelouch definitely remembers.

That one thing surfaces in his mind. Makes its way to his mouth. Parts his lips to roll out—

But the prince stays silent. He isn’t even aware that his mouth is hung open until he slowly shuts it again.

But no, that’s not the case. Lelouch has something to say.

He opens his mouth again, but again no words come out.

He was about to say it, but it suddenly slipped away. It was right in his grasp but was suddenly out of his reach.

The only sound to be heard is Clovis dropping back on the couch next to Euphemia, a sigh fleeing from his mouth. The atmosphere was suffocating, or maybe it was just Lelouch, whose throat still felt like an arid desert.

“I don’t get it,” Euphemia says, and the sharp tone that has never before coated her sweet voice makes everyone turn to her in shock. “How? How can someone not love you back?” She sounded close to tears, her hands fisting the fabric of her gown.

“What’s worse is that news of your encounter with the disease has had more media coverage than anything the past while,” Schneizel adds. “Needless to say, the person you loved definitely received information of it, and despite being aware of the pain you went through, the feelings weren’t returned.” His lilac eyes are narrowed, fixed to the floor as if the white tiles had the answers to his questions.

Clovis flashes a look of distaste towards his brother. “Funny you should say that, considering you did the exact same thing to Kanon.” No one even bothers to explain to him that Schneizel was not the person Kanon was in love with. They’ve had that conversation dozens of times, but Clovis was not getting any less convinced.

“I was aware that he Hanahaki Disease takes a toll with its victims,” Cornelia says, “but I never imagined you’d be subject to so much agony.”

“Th-This is not just the disease...” Euphemia’s voice is tainted with remorse and, dare her siblings say, anger. “It’s the _cruelty_ of the people.”

“Indeed, some people are just heartless. Being unaware of the pain you put people through is one thing, but being both aware and unwilling to stop it is just inhumane.” Clovis fixes his sympathetic gaze on Lelouch, but not before sneering at Schneizel.

Cruel. Heartless. Inhumane. The words make Lelouch’s blood rush. His being fills with agitation as a strong feeling of dissent manifests inside him, the sudden wanting to defend the person his siblings are deprecating. He doesn’t understand why despite having no memories of this person, he is more than sure his siblings are incorrect in every aspect. It wasn’t cruelty or heartlessness that left Lelouch fighting the disease in agony. It was something else. He knows it.

Before he can transform his raging thoughts into words, Lelouch opens his mouth. His intake of breath, as inaudible as it was, makes his brothers and sisters fall quiet, their pitying gazes landing on him.

It takes him a few tries to find his voice. “It wasn’t like that...” he murmurs, his voice like fractured glass. Although his eyes are fixed on the white sheets covering him, he is aware of his siblings exchanging unnerved glances.

“I don’t know what it was like,” Lelouch admits before his siblings can contradict him. “But I know it was different.”

Silence envelopes the princes and princesses. Lelouch’s persistence prevails, even though he can easily tell that his siblings are questioning his beliefs, even in their silence. When a rustle breaks the silence, Lelouch moves his eyes to Euphemia, who smiles at him through the small tears in her eyes.

“I can’t imagine how strong your love was, to keep you from thinking ill of the person you had feelings for, even after all you’ve went through.” The pink-haired princess shakes her head. Her smile widens as she says, “Someday you’ll find a person who returns your love with equal strength. It’s what you deserve.” Everyone voices their agreement spare the one whom these words were directed to.

“I’d say this person was never worthy of your love,” Schneizel speaks. “You may have caught those feelings for a reason but they can be disregarded after what you were put through. As Euphy said, you will someday find another person, who will be truly worthy of your love.”

“We don’t know when this _someday_ will be, but know that in the mean time”—Clovis reaches for a nearby table on which a large basket sits—“you have us.” He hands the basket to Lelouch, smiling.

Lelouch pulls the basket onto his lap. Poking around the contents, he is unable to hold a small smile back. He haphazardly scans the wishes scribbled on the glittery cards, some ribbons and confetti, but what does grab his attention is the chocolate wrappers, that are actually filled with chocolate this time. He takes a chocolate between his fingers and turns to Clovis, lifting an eyebrow.

The third prince shrugs. “You need them more than I do.”

A sound between a scoff and a laugh shakes through Lelouch as he puts the chocolate back into place. He took comfort in the fact that no matter what agonising episodes he has, the people closest to him will never change. And so, he is able to meet their eyes, one by one, as he says, “Thank you guys, for being by my side. I know I’m not the best at showing it but...” He swallows hard before continuing, lest he choke on the next words. “I really appreciate it.”

He is greeted with several smiles, and is grateful when the knot in his stomach loosens. He dares to hope that brighter days are coming.

Euphemia leans closer to the bed and reaches for her brother’s hand. “We are in this with you, Lelouch.” Her grip on Lelouch’s hand is as soft as her voice.

“We share both your happiness and your agony,” Schneizel says. “Do remember that well.”

“And we share the hopes of you finding your other half,” Clovis adds, reaching for the basket and helping himself with some chocolate. “Or maybe it’s just me who was excited about having another sister-in-law.”

~

_Lelouch vi Britannia Undergoes Surgery For The Hanahaki Disease_

“After the enduring period in which he fought for life, His Highness was left with no choice but to go for the surgery to treat the Hanahaki Disease. We have received information that His Highness awoke earlier this morning, and are being assured that he is being provided with the best of medication to speed his recovery and guarantee his wellbeing. While we lament that His Highness emerged fruitless from this journey, we thank the heavens that he sustained himself even after the battle with the deadly disease. Our sorrows are short-cut as we revel in the hopes of His Highness succeeding at finding his love, which doesn’t seem far from reality given His Highness’s charming and beguiling nature. Other information we have received is that a party will be thrown to celebrate His Highness’s recovery...”

The words don’t enter Shirley’s ear and instead float in the air around her. So far she has been dismissing the spurts of confusion that randomly greet her, knowing they are just a lingering effect from the surgery she had last week. But now her mind is thrown into shambles as she watches the news about Prince Lelouch’s own journey with the disease. She doesn’t know what correlation exists between the two phenomena yet her head keeps spinning round and round.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but some things around her abruptly make very little sense. Without thinking she turns to the windowsill on the far wall in her room. It has become more than natural for her to land her gaze there often. The ginger might not know every last thing in her room, but she knows quite well this red rose was never there. It was like the rose had just popped into existence, and then existed perfectly. She doesn’t remember when or how she attained the rose, but was still enchanted by it. There was a feel to it she couldn’t point her fingers on but enjoyed nonetheless.

She doesn’t know what the rose has to do with any of this, but one similarity it bears to this situation is that Shirley can’t seem to fully understand it, no matter how much she tries to. Though there wasn’t much to understand; the rose was simply on the windowsill. Prince Lelouch underwent the surgery. Shirley herself did. That was all that needed to be known. Still, Shirley can’t help but feel like something is missing, like she’s staring at a wonderful picture in puzzle pieces with only a single piece missing. Even though the whole picture is beautiful, that one missing piece’s absence changes everything.

She keeps her eyes on the rose for a long, long moment, before the bubbly blonde sitting on her bed grabs her attention. Milly sways a lavish, glittery gown in each hand, one lilac and one blue. A massive grin decorated her face.

“Well, Shirley? It’s not an easy choice, but you’ll need to pick a dress for the party.”

~

There is plenty Lelouch detests when it comes to the royal life, but the spotlight will always shine on balls and parties.

One would think that the most suitable way to rejoice in the prince’s recovery would be making him rest, not throw a huge party late into the night. It’s like his recovery was used as a mere excuse to throw a party, which doesn’t seem out of place.

Now he makes the best of the little time he has left before the party starts. All while his brothers and sisters were scurrying around in last-minute preparations, Lelouch was doing what should be done in the lounge: _lounging_. It is something he has been doing quite often these days. It feels like an eternity since he’s last been able to relax his whole body like this, since he went without fear of attacks and losing consciousness at any second.

“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks.

“Just a moment...” Quiet rustles are heard before Nunnally continues, “Here it is!”

Lelouch’s orbs are greeted with the ‘little surprise’ his sister had in the making. With featherlike fingers, he takes the elegantly folded paper into his hands, gazing in admiration. “A paper crane?”

Nunnally eagerly nods. “It’s a symbol of never losing hope, even when things get too hard. I figured that you going for the surgery is not you ending your chance at finding love, but is you creating a new chance.” She traces her finger onto the wing of the crane, locking her eyes with her brother’s. “I’m sure there is a wonderful person out there, waiting for you.”

An astonishingly rare phenomenon occurs: Lelouch is caught off guard. He never expects anything but utmost kindness from his sister, but he didn’t know what she would make of him treating the Hanahaki Disease with the surgery. Nunnally had stirred a small while after Lelouch awoke, and they were left alone to talk. He knew she did not want him to go for the surgery. Or rather, did not want him to give up. Lelouch didn’t know what to expect when they had the chance to talk but Nunnally was happy to the point of tears, emphasising that her brother’s wellbeing is above all.

Lelouch’s shock subsides with a light laugh as he pulls his sister into his arms. “And I’m sure you are the most wonderful person to exist, Nunnally.” He presses a kiss against her forehead.

Nunnally nestles against Lelouch. She lifts her head to look at him when she says, “There’s one more thing!” Her hands envelope Lelouch’s, along with the crane. “It is said that when you fold a thousand of those, your wish will come true. Maybe if we do that, we can wish that you find your true love!”

“It does seem like we will have to experiment with a myth or two to have Lelouch find his true love,” Clovis approaches, his ivory jacket and golden locks swaying with him.

Lelouch can’t keep himself from rolling his eyes but he does hold a sigh of irritation back, which seems very admirable from his side. Euphemia, Cornelia and Schneizel also close in, leaving the eleventh prince surprised to be the centre of attention for once.

“Folding a thousand paper cranes does seem like a trial, but not something we won’t be able to do,” Euphemia says, propping down next to Nunnally.

“I believe the individual has to fold all thousand paper cranes, or should there be restrictions if we were all to share the task?” Schneizel narrows his eyes at the paper crane.

“Looks like we’ll have to do some research on that.” Euphemia gently grabs the paper crane and turns it around, looking from every angle.

“I don’t believe that would be necessary.” Lelouch waves a hand at his siblings. He would have gotten up if Nunnally wasn’t still in his arms.

Clovis throws his hands into the air. “ _He doesn’t even want to try_ ,” he says as if complaining to the heavens.

A smile that bears all what a smile shouldn’t holds Lelouch’s lips. He decides to remove himself from the rest of the conversation, only sparing a few glances as his siblings gather around the paper crane, throwing admiring statements and a few questions.

And help the Dark Prince, for he is never able to let such thoughts be exposed, but decides that his siblings might just see that he only deems search for love unnecessary because he is already surrounded by it.

~

That scene Lelouch had with his siblings, if anything, helped him through half of the party. Small chats with his brothers, some dancing with his sisters. They helped compensate for the torment the rest of the night carried. Lelouch can’t even count how many women he’s been forced to smile at, how many oaths and declarations of love, promises that these women will end his suffering he’s been forced to listen to. The prince thought a proper way of showing gratitude would be giving him space, not throw at him more and more of what he’s fed up with.

The talks of love coming from every corner drain Lelouch’s already scarce patience, and he is already making his way out of the room, his knight right behind him. He always knew that being royalty would strip him of his freedom of choice but never imagined it would reach this extent. He uses all his effort to keep a scowl from forming on his face as he walks.

This felt more of a party in honour of anyone else more than it felt to him. Few people have actually been concerned with his health more than of his availability. This feels just like any other party, and Lelouch doesn’t even need to search because he knows he won’t find a reason for him to think of this party different from all the ones he’s been to before. More specifically, all the ones he’s been to and hated.

He pays no heed to his surroundings as his feet shuffle. His vision is nearing a blur but he is still able to catch a few things from the corner of his eye: a servant passing drinks around; a woman in a much too bright red dress, flirting with a likely drunken man; another woman in a lilac dress.

Lelouch freezes. Quickly whirling around, he prompts his knight to halt in shock.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” the knight asks.

A small inhale is all Lelouch offers at first. His head suddenly clears, and he realises he is staring at nothing in particular. He was sure he was looking for something that pulled his attention, but there seems to be nothing worthy of concentrating on. He gives a final, quick scan before turning again and continuing to walk.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He tries to convince himself so, but even as he repeats the words to himself for the rest of the evening, the feeling that it was indeed something remains unwavering.

~

Being royalty meant that variance cannot be, and it was a fact Lelouch knew better than anyone else. The prince has tried many times to inflict a change but his efforts were futile. Nevertheless, giving up never occurred to him. It was an option dismissed before being considered in the first place. His resilience was entirely influenced by him, but lately he feels like he had made a silent promise to someone, a promise that he won’t give up. Lelouch doesn’t ponder much on the matter, grateful that, whether it be him or another person that made it happen, he has gotten here.

At first, his efforts were out of hope. But as time passed, he found himself persisting out of desperation. Hope or desperation, Lelouch never believed this day would come.

He never believed he would walk the grounds of the campus of Ashford Academy.

It was rather disagreeable to think that he was only allowed to visit out of pity, what with suffering from a deadly disease. Lelouch overlooked it. He didn’t have time to be bitter about it now, not when he was living his long-awaited dream.

The prince has been to some of the most lavish of palaces, the most exuberant natural spots, yet nothing captivated him like the buildings of Ashford Academy. Naturally, he couldn’t compare it to other academies, but it seemed to be very spacious. Small streams were flowing on either side of him as he walked down the stony path. The walls were a creamy colour, and even from a distance Lelouch could see the beauty of the precise architecture. He assumed Ashford to be a high-class academy, and its sight confirmed it.

“I didn’t guess we’d have to wear uniforms during our visit,” Nunnally speaks, examining the white sleeves of her button-up, and the pink dress.

Lelouch observes his own uniform; black slacks with a matching jacket that has golden outlines and a symbol of the academy on the collar. The prince has had attire made especially for him, with carefully chosen fabrics and dimensions, yet he felt like nothing fit him better than this uniform.

“We have to dress like students if we are to step in their territory, just as how outsiders are expected to dress formally when stepping into the palace,” Lelouch says.

“Excellent judgement, Your Highness,” Suzaku says, “though I don’t see students around.”

“That’s because they are currently on a break from the academic year. Only the student council is working, mostly planning activities for when the students come back. Milly deemed it the most appropriate time for us to visit.” Once done with explaining, Lelouch goes back to staring around in utmost wonder.

Too captivated by his surroundings, he doesn’t notice when they’ve reached the clubhouse, where Milly was awaiting. He only comes to know of the blonde’s presence when Nunnally runs to her and the two greet each other in enthusiasm. Lelouch was about to take the next steps to the clubhouse but stops, not yet done with scrutinising the area. Suzaku follows suit.

The prince knows better than to indulge in unrealistic thoughts, but looking from the Ashford buildings to the yards to the two girls chatting excitedly a distance from him, he is unable to hold back from wondering.

“What do you think, Suzaku?” He looks around for an extra moment before turning to the boy. “What do you think it would be like, if we were actually students here?”

Suzaku is silent for a moment, seizing the unexpected question and looking for an answer. “You mean to say if our lives were different in every aspect from the way they are, Your Highness?”

“Exactly,” Lelouch says breathily. “Can you imagine it?” His voice makes it sound like he is speaking of a myth, a legend.

“Well, Your Highness, I can easily imagine you skipping any classes related to physical education.” Suzaku looks like he is trying to hold back a laugh.

Lelouch easily returns, “Just as easily as I can imagine you blowing up the science labs.”

“Are you two coming?” Milly shouts.

The two boys turn to her, having only a second to affirm before she turns away and rushes into the clubhouse, Nunnally by her side.

“Let us go then, Your Highness.”

Lelouch smiles. “Let’s go, Suzaku.”

And so the prince and the knight continue their way. They are greeted with several shocked glances that gave way to warm welcome upon entering the clubhouse. They are introduced to the members of the student council. Lelouch has been introduced to a multitude of people from a multitude of places around the world, but he has never experienced anything like this. The student council was bright and boisterous, and seemed to harbour something deeper than genuine respect when it came to Lelouch. For the first time in his life, Lelouch felt like he was actually being welcomed in a foreign place, and that it had nothing to do with his status. It was a wonderful feeling.

Lelouch turns to the members in greeting, one by one, when suddenly the air was knocked out of his lungs.

He freezes in the middle of the room, unable to move, unable to breathe.

His senses are thrown into frenzy as all the thoughts he has been keeping at bay crash onto him at once, like a tidal wave on rocks.

Everything seemed to melt, and the girl was the only thing Lelouch could focus on. He knows a girl with such striking features would remain in his mind, what with her bright green orbs and long ginger hair. But Lelouch thinks—he _knows_ there’s another reason he remembers her.

She seemed to feel the same thing, returning Lelouch’s shock in her gape. 

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, neither of them making a single move. It felt like nothing else existed.

“Big brother?” Nunnally’s concern shakes Lelouch back into reality.

The prince blinks, and is miraculously able to pry his eyes off the ginger. He notices that everyone is staring at him in worry. Some were looking around, trying to point their fingers on what it was that agitated him.

“Is everything okay?” Milly asks.

He blinks again, trying to clear his mind but he isn’t quite successful. “Ah, yes, everything’s fine.” He looks around, trying to find anything that can initiate a new topic. “This is quite a big clubhouse. How about we get a small tour?” He tries for a smile, hoping it is not as shaky as he feels.

“We were actually discussing that. Come on, there’s plenty for you to see!” Milly exclaims, waving her arms in invite. She takes the lead, and has everyone at her guidance. Though she only leads a few steps before she turns again, calling, “Shirley?”

Lelouch’s heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage. He dares to turn his head to cast a discreet glance at the girl. The ginger, who had stayed frozen in place, hastily composes herself, laughing nervously. “I-I’m coming!”

Lelouch wills his legs to carry him away, and wills his eyes to look anywhere but at the girl. There was an unfamiliar feeling manifesting in his chest, and something told him if it became any stronger it might just overwhelm him.

Thankfully, there was plenty to focus on. The clubhouse has numerous rooms, each dedicated to a certain activity. The place seemed to be more entertaining than anything the palace offered of leisure.

Memories were pinned all over the place, mostly in photographs. The council was a mischievous bunch, or maybe their president was. Scanning the photos, Lelouch couldn’t help but have slivers of resentment form inside him. He wasn’t just looking at a bunch of students doing fun activities in their school year; he was looking at freedom. He was looking at the one thing his royal life would never offer him.

The feeling doesn’t have time to manifest before numbness overflows Lelouch. He feels his body becomes hollow when his eyes fall on a single picture in the corner: the ginger, dressed in a white dress, angel wings attached to the back. There was a whole world in the background; Milly dressed as a demon and some other boys running around. But Lelouch couldn’t get his eyes off the angel. Although his better judgement tells him not to, he turns to the ginger. It didn’t seem like a coincidence that her back is facing him.

Lelouch turns back to the picture, but the funny sensation in his body, the tensing of all his muscles, make him look away. He shouldn’t be so naive. He should know better than to let such feelings control his actions. The skittering in his chest and tingles in his body cannot be allowed. Even if a small part of him finds them pleasurable. 

~

It was no surprise to Lelouch that the flow of time was speedy, and his day at Ashford was over after what felt like minutes from its start. Before he knew it he, Nunnally and Suzaku were bidding farewell to the student council. The bunch reiterated that the three are welcome to visit any more times, that it would be their pleasure to have them here again.

The council insists on walking them all the way from the clubhouse to the entrance. Lelouch stays behind, at the will of something deep inside him they says there is something he is yet to do. He watches as everyone walks down the stairs and pathway, still chatting.

Lelouch turns back to the clubhouse, examining it one last time. His stomach drops to the floor when he notices the ginger still standing there, facing the window. She had been avoiding him all day but Lelouch can’t blame her, considering he too would have avoided any encounter with her. But maybe all he wanted to avoid was the fireworks that rocked his chest every time he looked at her.

He scans the clubhouse again and again, searching for that one thing nagging at him. Could it be that he was just stalling? Maybe he didn’t want to leave Ashford Academy. But there was no point in fighting what couldn’t be avoided.

With a quiet sigh, he exits the clubhouse.

But the thing deep inside him doesn’t tell him to return. It screams at him. It screams so loudly Lelouch doubts it’s only in his head. The rushing of his blood has him stomping back into the clubhouse, barely able to feel anything but heat coursing through his veins.

“Shirley,” he calls. He is surprised at the softness in his voice when a fire was raging inside of him.

Said girl reacts as if she’s been shot. She jumps back, and turns around at the speed of light. “Y-Your Highness?”

“Shirley I’ve...” Lelouch takes more steps into the clubhouse, prompting Shirley to back away, pressing into the window. “I’ve _seen_ you before, right?” He is surprised he found words to phrase the question, when many others were whirling around his mind.

_Why does my heart jump every time I see you?_

_Why do I feel like you’re the one I’ve been searching for?_

_Was it a dream or reality that I saw you in?_

Emerald orbs widen, staring at Lelouch like he was a madman. The prince feels a sinking sensation throughout his body. He was definitely mad, thinking one of the people farthest from him had a significant role in his life.

Shirley runs a hand through her ginger locks, moving them away from her eyes. Disbelief was painted all over her face. “You felt it, too?”

Lelouch isn’t aware he is holding his breath until all the air leaves him at once, and it feels like a punch to the chest. “I felt it. I knew it.” Breathy laughter forms from his relief.

A shy smile is returned. Shirley’s cheeks are tainted a light, rosy shade.

“I’m sure I’d remember any encounter I’d have with you, Your Highness.”

“And I would never forget either, Shirley.”

And so the two stared at each other, their smiles never ceasing. Even though they were silent, words were exchanged between them, spoken not by their mouths, but by their hearts:

_I don’t regret it._

_I don’t regret it at all._

_I don’t regret falling in love with you._

_The petals of miracle made them remember, even when the world made them forget._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank all my wonderful readers. In times I lost hope I'd read your comments over and over again, and it became clear to me that I was not alone in this. Knowing that there were people out there waiting for my story made the process much easier and much more heartwarming. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for accompanying me on this wonderful journey, and I hope to see you all in the journeys to come.


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